


Under the Skin

by Missnys



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missnys/pseuds/Missnys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some, dreams are an escape from their lives but for Harry it is more. There are realities unrealized in dreams and one lonely child has stumbled upon one that will shape not only his future, but the future of all magical beings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: everything I own is much less exciting than the characters I am using and I would likely fry my brain trying to think them up.  
> Warnings: sexual situations, rape, underage sex, violence, abuse, SLASH to the nth degree and complete bastardizing of two fantastic book series. Enjoy.  
> Pairings: they will become apparent besides the basics pretty quick but I leave this open for speculating and suggestions.  
> A/N: This is not the first story I’ve written in the long time I’ve been away from a working comp but it is one of the longest. My plan is to write on my spare time but to type up what I have now (my WiaFB included) and just get them out on the web before really hitting the paper again. I Have a LOT of stories so bear with me here. Sadly Partnership will be on a permanent hiatus for a long time unless someone wants to adopt it. I have lost my fervour for hp/dm fics. That’s why Wizards in a Fruits Basket will have some minor changes to the story line but not the posted chapters. That’s all I have to say for now. Reviews or complaints are welcome.

**Chapter one:**

Harry Potter had been dreaming all of his life. In the darkness of his cupboard, he would travel to strange lands full of fantastical creatures and people.

There were forests and fields where he found wolves and felines, larger than himself, that he could run and play with. The cubs, he would tackle and wrestle with, sometimes hunting each other in a skewed version of hide-and-seek that he had once tried to explain. The elder beasts would pull them together and teach true hunting, and the basics of survival, that had saved harry more than once when the Dursley’s had forgotten him outside, locking the doors, when his chores ran late. Harry had made himself a little den in the nearby park when he was five for just those nights, sometimes praying that a wolf or tiger would find him and stay but he knew it wouldn’t be the same. No animal he had met while awake could talk in his head like they could in his dreams.

In an out of the way valley, Harry had found a small herd of the most beautiful equines that he had ever set eyes on, a few weeks after his third birthday. That night he had spent his entire dream just watching their slow, graceful movements as they grazed peacefully, from a steady perch on a branch of a dead tree. He repeated this the second night and the third, keeping his distance but never actively hiding. On the fourth night, the equine Harry had decided was the leader of the herd approached him menacingly. Harry had slip off his branch to tumble to the ground, staring in shock at the spiralling ivory horn protruding from the crown of its forehead. Harry wasn’t able to do anything to answer the angry voice buzzing across his mind as the enormity of actually facing a unicorn froze the toddler. Confused at the wide eyed, barely breathing, tiny human, the unicorn stallion had bowed down to nudge the mop of raven hair with his muzzle. Tears had spilled forth with the first chuff of hot breath, smelling of grass, on his flushed face. Unable to control himself, Harry had flung far too skinny arms as far around the thick, furred neck as he could and cried softly against the equines barrel chest. The unicorn himself had trembled with shock at the sudden, unexpected move, but relaxed, fully taking in the pain, sadness and joy from the boy. From that day on the stallion and the herd welcomed Harry, teaching him to ride both horses and what they called the Winds. The Winds came in different colours that got darker as they got stronger, and that a person could only ride the Wind that was the same colour, or lighter, as the stones they carried. Harry was delighted to find that they all opened for him. Welcomed him, even. In the waking world he could almost feel the Winds lacing the plain land he lived on but the noise and electricity muffled anything definitive. He was not yet willing to make a blind leap into that sweet darkness, especially if there was a chance that he would fail. He could not handle the possibility that his dreams were just that, dreams.

His most confusing friends were the spiders . They couldn't play with him like his other dream friends but they told him wonderful riddles. The smaller spiders would crawl all over him, tickling his exposed skin with their soft legs, as they taught him how to weave his own webs, how to fill them with his thought and hopes and evens his most secret wishes. Sometimes he would sit in the hidden cave below the spider's home and watch the largest golden spider, the one they called Weaver of Dreams, weave her giant web and marvel at the stories hidden in the strands. His insect friends he met when he was seven around the time his right ring finger began to blacken and ached horribly. They had taught him first about the snake tooth and the venom and how to care for them both. He gained his first real hope with the spider when, on the following morning, he woke to find the nail still black and pointed. He hid it for a while with a band-aid, citing an injury that none questioned, until he found enough change to buy a bottle of black nail polish. It was cheap and chipped easily but it covered his nails well enough. What it did not do was help dispute the reputation Petunia had been feeding the neighbours about him.

There were others, people with fey features and vicious strength, the large centaurs with their equine bodies, and a strange snake like woman whom he felt so much love for. His two favourites, though, were the young golden eyed winged boy, who wanted so badly to teach Harry how to fly, and Tersa. The older woman, with the wildly tangled black hair, always welcomed him in her disjointed way. He knew she saw things that were beyond his understanding for now but she loved him, unconditionally, and he returned that. She had cried the first time he had called her Grandma, but she had cried harder when he stopped, thinking he had upset her. He especially enjoyed the misty place that she walked with him but he was always careful to remember their path so he could lead her to the border lands again. Only once had he come to see her when she was already lost and the hunt had scared him so badly he had been openly wailing by the time he had found her. As she had comforted him in a grainy field of chattering flowers, and promised to leave markers when she walked alone. Harry accepted this only after erecting a shining beacon on the border that called to all those who wanted to find their way.

It would be years before he realized how much chaos that pillar had created.

In the waking world, when he was very young, Harry had told his relatives, his aunt specifically, about his dream world. When the blood had stopped flowing and he was allowed to crawl from the darkness of his cupboard to the bucket of dirty water waiting for him a week later, he quietly denounced his dreams to a towering uncle and accepted the list of strenuous chores that would earn him food. Upon entering school with his cousin, Harry had half entertained the idea of sharing his dreams with these new people but after a few words with his relatives the new adults would look at him with the same disgust and wariness as the rest. The students avoided him once Dudley made and example of the a little boy who talked to him on the first day, so Harry kept his dreams to himself. He grew up in two different worlds.

The day that owls surrounded their home, Harry had the burning hope that they were Kindred come to lead him home. It was replaced by a hollow disappointment when he realized that they were simply messengers attempting to deliver a copy of the letter that his relatives were trying so hard to keep from him. He had been genuinely surprised at the sight of the half giant, Hagrid, but the thought of magic re-lit his his hope at finding a way into his dreams.

Magic was fascinating and once Harry knew what to search for, he found that deep well of power embracing him so completely. The books he managed to sneak into the stack Hagrid helped him purchase, explained magic differently than what Harry felt, but the principle was the same. He had trouble with the wands, unable and unwilling to allow them to synch with his core until he was given one that felt incomplete. The holly wand easily allowed his dark power to flow through it, like a focus, but didn't try to cling to him like the others. He knew it would simply be his instrument as it waited for the day that he would complete it.

That first day of magic was also the day that he met Hedwig. Hagrid said that said that she was a gift but Harry knew that she chose to stay with him the moment his mind automatically reached out to hers like it did with all the kindred. She wasn't quite strong enough to be kindred yet but he could sense her and her feelings, finding she absolutely hated being caged. Having ignored Hagrid's warnings, Harry opened her cage and let her fly free. When she settled on his shoulder she was heavy but he wouldn't have moved her for the world.

Hogwarts, and he wondered why anyone would name a school after something so gross, was as beautiful as he knew it would be but the home of his heart would always be what Draca called The Keep. He did meet the boy Draco for the second time, who's name he liked but found the boys attitude not living up to the strength in it. Knowing he would wind up embarrassing or hurting the masculine-form-of-Draca, Harry had chosen to be in the lion's den, promising to apologize to the Keep's Seneschal later. Surrounded by new people and wonderful feats of magic, Harry felt comfortable, if not totally relaxed, for the first time in his waking life. He didn't mention his dreams to his new friends or the kindly old Headmaster, not trusting anyone fully, save Hedwig, ever since finding out they all thought he was some kind of Savior. Only two people saw him as nothing more than human and they all agreed to keep the friendship secret, due to the stupid house rivalries.

The whole first year disenchanted Harry towards the world of magic with only a few highlights in the same time period. One such highlight was the birth of Norbert. The newly hatched dragon, the first he had ever seen, had imprinted onto Hagrid as its mother but as soon as it caught sight of Harry it had crooned and preened for his approval, awkwardly crawling all over him. The teen himself could not keep from visiting the little Ridgeback every chance he got until Ron's older brother was able to come collect him in secret. There was a hair raising moment where the dragon, almost as bit as Harry by then, would not unwind himself from the teen to enter the transport crate at the top of the astronomy tower, but Harry reluctantly talked him into it. The burly red head, that had to be Ron's brother Charlie, had given him a speculative look until Norbert's mournful keening sent them all into a panicked scramble.

The second and, dare he think it, most important highlight was when he learned to fly. Supposedly his father had been a good but he couldn't really bring himself to care. All he knew was that he was finally joining his winged brother in the air.

 

Harry continued dreaming through the year, enjoying Winsol with both sets of his friends, and watched his dream wold continue to heal from some great cataclysm that had purged bad things from the land before his time. Just like every year he watched the grey,flat realm, below all others, regain its small population of dead. He never approached them but he watched them cope with their new existence and sympathized silently. Sometimes he would see a beautiful blonde woman walking among them, seeming like the only spot of colour in their new lives.

She had stolen his breath at his first glance at her, seeing the thin, overly frail body hide a deep well of strength that birthed a longing within him that he could not handle. Since that first night when he was nine, Harry had avoided her with a passion while still stealing glimpses when he could.

The year ended in sever disappointment for Harry, that he hid from everyone but his two secret friends. The attempted theft of the Stone, that should never have been in the school, that turned into a fight for survival was a major check on his list of unhappy experiences. It was not improved by the Headmaster's blatant favouritism during the Leaving Feast.

In the summer that followed, Harry was surprised with a new room at the Dursley home. It was given to him out of fear but the mass of locks and barred windows seemed fairly standard. Vernon ultimately displayed his anger in the usual was but he was careful not to damage Harry's face or arms. His impromptu rescue after his birthday endeared the three red-head brothers to him far more than they realized but his trust in Ron would not last past the first two moths of school. The twins, however, had won his loyalty with their own. The little house elf that had been causing so much chaos, trying to keep him in Privet Dr, had slowly grown on Harry. He just only to remember that Dobby answered best to direct, and firm, commands, which he had not known when the barrier to the train locked out him and Ron. Whatever had possessed Harry to agree to Ron's suggestion of using the flying car to get to Hogwarts, he could never figure out, not for years.

It was during the school year that he met a new woman in his dreams while he was visiting grandma Tersa. The shattered Widow had brought the white-blonde woman, with her weak legs, to teach him what she herself could not. The woman, Karla, accepted the moment he had laid eyes on him, promising to keep it between the three of them. Thus Harry began to learn Craft, though no on made a comment on the fact that he had no Jewels.

Less and less did Harry want to be in the waking world, especially when Basilisk was turning people to stone and the blame was turned on him. The twins and his true friends were his only supporters, prompting him to pull further away from the 'Golden Trio'. In the end, Harry was forced to fight beside Ron at the want point, wielded by their moronic DADA professor. Thanks to the Weasley's broken wand, he was able to save the youngest of the Weasley brood and kill both the basilisk and Tom Riddle's shade. The moment the diary flooded the ground with ink he had begun to milk the snake tooth under his nail, forcing out drop after drop as he felt the Basilisk's venom chasing his veins. He was sure it wasn't going to work, that he was going to die in agony on the dirt encrusted floor of a forgotten chamber, when he heard a soft trill and soothing drops of life fell on his torn arm. Fawkes had cried for him, inadvertently changing his venom. Once he told the Weaver of Dreams of his adventure the spiders had gone into a frenzy, testing his venom and blood, searching for any changes and, once they realized the general condition of his abused body, called in a kindred healer. He let them, touched by their concern, but would not answer any of the questions on how he sustained his injuries. In the end the results were his blood having healing properties when applied to potions, he donated some when asked if they could give it to their 'Lady', and his venom was as potent as a Basilisk's, the only antidote was to be found in his blood. This all happened during his thirteenth summer, but while still in the Chamber, he hadn't noticed Ginerva waking until he was already healed. By then there was no way to hide his nature.

They had stared at each other for a good minute in mutual awkwardness until Harry ventured first with a soft, “Don't tell, okay?” she had agreed and he had gained another loyal friend as she thankfully took more after the Twins than Ron. Only those three Weasley siblings knew about his real friends and his suspicions about the other two thirds of the 'Golden Trio', all of them agreeing to keep an eye of his 'friends'.

That summer, after his visit to the Weaver of Dreams, his Aunt Marge came to visit. For once Harry found he could no withstand the brutal taunts so he ran away, after accidentally turning the visiting waste of flesh into a human balloon of course. It was on a sidewalk, that Harry got a premonition of what his third year was going to be like. Staring into the darkness he had seen a large, mangy black dog watching his every move from across the street. Keeping eye contact to prevent bolting, Harry had dug out a baggie of sandwiches meant for Vernon's lunch the next day. He had coaxed the dog over with food and checked him over carefully. Recognizing the breed he cast a small illusion web, making it look like a black Lab instead of a Grimm. Lighting up a small ball of witchlight to study his work, Harry had been startled by a large purple bus appearing with a bang. Hedwig had taken flight, crying out that she would follow when he had decided to board. He had introduced himself and his canine friend as Cain and Able, respectively, earning a huff from the dog that sparked his suspicions but the beast just followed obediently.

On the bus, safely centred on a bed, Able splayed out across his legs, Harry had begun a simple healing web to deal with the dog's malnutrition and exhaustion. Blue-grey eyes that were so rare in a canine watched him steadily, widening when Harry began to sing and the magic took affect. The healing lasted until just moments before the bus arrived at the destination, which was fortunate as they were greeted by a pompous windbag the moment he stepped off. Cornelius Fudge would never bee Harry's favourite person. The rest of his summer was uneventful save finding out that a man, Sirius Black, had broken out of the wizarding jail, Azkaban, to kill him, which he doubted. The monster books for Care of Magical Creatures were amusing for Harry. When he stepped in the bookstore they would flock to the cage bars, vying for his attention. He would. He had helped the owner by climbing in and calming the raging paper beasts so he could sell them. Able had done his part to help by pouncing on the runaways that managed to slip out of captivity.

Harry had been saddened when able refused to get on the train, but understood once he was rudely introduced to the Dementors for the first time. The helplessness he felt as he relived his own memories terrified him. He did not question it but Able was waiting for him At Hogsmead station. Coming to school like a regular student that year, Harry was surprised to see winged skeletal horses hitched up to the carriages. He had wondered why most student were ignoring the interesting looking creatures while some, like Neville Longbottom, were casting them hesitant glances. Following the lines of students, when he approached the two closest carriages had diverted off their path, converging on him. He had laughed as they nuzzled and nudged him into petting them before he could urge them back to work. He ignored the questions spilling from his trailing Gryffindor duo while boarded a coach pulled by a pair, of what he would later know as thestrals, that were far too pleased with themselves. Able must have felt the need to be included for he had trailed him, claiming the vast majority of the coach floor.

When asked about the dog he answered 'He followed me home.' earning another huff from the dog. Through the year Harry noted that Able would not step a paw into certain areas like the potions lab or the DADA classroom. He loved scaring Trelawney, having her scream about Grimms whenever he popped up. How he got up the ladder, Harry didn't care to think about. The canine would also disappear at random times, like when Sirius Black broke into the boy dormitory or when he lost his broom to the Willow, only to receive a new and better one, but Harry accepted it all silently. Just like he accepted the fact that he could not visit Hogsmead with his friends, instead using the map from Fred and George to fully explore the castle. That was how he found the Room of Requirement and where, near the end of the year, he confronted his canine companion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the story really starts and the two world begin to slowly collide. There are not many warnings to issue (that I can remember) beside abuse, torture, rape, language, death and murder but most of that will come later. Hopefully there will be a bit of humour to keep you interested.

**Chapter 2:**

Harry lounged on the soft ground under the clear, if fake, blue sky surrounded by lush forest and the Keep standing majestically a fair distance away. He watched his current companion frolic around the grounds, chasing imaginary animals with far too much energy, in the teen's opinion. The Black Lab illusion was been dropped months ago when the mangy beast's returning health had made him barely recognizable from the dog Harry had picked up in the summer. When the beast he had named Abel tired himself out enough to settle, he plopped down beside Harry. The Gryffindor decided that it was time he broached a subject he had been pondering for weeks.

"So what are you searching for if you are not here to kill me?" His tone was mild but Abel shot to his feet in surprise. "Is it Ron or his pet?"

He watched, interested, as the convicts body twisted and shifted before his eyes. He looked healthier than expected, better than his condition on his wanted poster, but Harry supposed that the care in his Grimm form helped. He was still a bit too thin, however, at least for Harry's liking. A platter of food arrived between them at his mental behest.

"His pet." the rough, use starved voice answered. A pitcher of water joined the food. "How long?"

"A few months. Did you betray my parents?"

"No!" He practically barked in his vehemence, strong hands shooting forward to grip Harry's shin imploringly. "It was Peter! That rat Pettigrew. He's the one- the one that..."

The convict seemed overwhelmed and the teen automatically moved to calm him, gently manoeuvring the older male until he was resting his tangled head in Harry's lap. The damaged man wept brokenly into his stomach as he clutched the last remnant of his life before prison. Neither felt the need to move as they calmed so Harry took up the torch again from his new position.

"Peter Pettigrew, you said? You were apart of the Marauders, I'm guessing, and that would make you Padfoot. Prongs was..?"

"Your dad. He could turn into a stag."

"And Moony?"

"Remus Lupin. Your Defence teacher."

"A werewolf, funny. Interesting coincidence that Dumbledore hired him the year you broke out of Azkaban and not in the years before. So Wormtail is Pettigrew." Harry immediately distracted Sirius from his own rambling thoughts.

"The bloody rat." Sirius growled and his grip bordered on painful but the teen let him be.

"Explain what happened." he ordered softly and the man did. They settled into a gentle quiet while Harry mulled over the new information. "So you're my godfather."

The news was surprisingly easy to accept and he was thankful that there was someone worthy and living with a valid claim to him, even if no action could be taken yet. For now, however, Harry put it aside for more pressing matters. "Who cast the Fidelius Charm?"

"Lily. She was brilliant with charms."

"So everyone who knew the truth, other than us, is dead." Sirius nodded, "The only way to clear your name would be a full trial or the capture of Pettigrew. Considering the Dementors crawling around, they wont give you even the chance of a trial, even if we did hand them the rat."

"I don't care if we catch him. I want to kill him!" Sirius growled, trying to break free but Harry held tight.

"You will not!" Harry snapped, a surprising rumble in his voice that stilled the man abruptly. Blue-grey eyes stared up at him, astonished. "Do you really think that I would let you throw your chances away just when I found you? I plan to have you free by the end of the summer at the latest but if you don't think you can follow my plan I will lock you in here with only your imaginary bunnies for company. Am I understood?" The man nodded vigorously.

"You have allot more of Lily in you than I thought." he murmured in a daze so Harry decided he would let that one slide. He never much care for his biological parents, as the only time he ever felt like he knew them was when the Dementors were near and their screams drove him into the Darkness. Why he wanted to catch Pettigrew was to gain justice for the living.

"First things first." he pushed his godfather off his lap unceremoniously, enjoying the indignant cry as he rolled, "We talk to Professor Lupin."

"What? No! We can't! He-" the grown wizards teeth clicked as his mouth snapped shut with a single _look_ from his godson. Without a word he changed back into Padfoot and followed him out the door, tail tucked firmly between his legs. The trip to Lupin's office was quick, he had been silently asking the school to clear the way, much to Abel's disappointment. When he stepped into the DADA classroom Lupin was sitting behind his desk, grading papers. Golden eyes glanced up and filled with what Harry now recognized as joy, until those same eyes slid to the dog half hiding behind his legs. In seconds a vicious snarling parody of his favourite teacher was leaping over the desk, but the teen was ready.

"Sit!" he rumbled, pleased that he could recreate the tone he used on Sirius before. Both canines planted their buts abruptly, stunned at that order. Dragging Sirius forward, towards the professor now on the floor, Harry sat himself comfortably in a chair.

"Harry, please. You don't know who that is." Lupin pleaded as soon as he came back to himself, but he didn't attempt to move from his seat. "That's-"

"Sirius Black. Escaped convict. My Godfather. Yes, I know all that. Do you know how long he has been with me?" Lupin shook his head, eyes not leaving the downtrodden dog. "Since the end of summer. I'm not dead yet, am I?"

"I can clearly see that you are not, but you don't know what he has done." the werewolf insisted.

"Do you?" Harry cut off any answer by opening a familiar moving map on the nearest desk and searching out a name he had noticed, but hadn't registered, earlier that year. Finding it in Gryffindor tower he tapped it with his finger until Remus brought himself to his feet to look.

"That's impossible." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"You were the ones to make the map, you tell me." golden eyes turned to the now human Sirius for an explanation. When it was given, nearly exactly the same for when he told Harry, the man's world shattered.

"All those years. I had thought..." his voice grew tight and he wasn't able to continue.

"Doesn't matter." Sirius grunted, pulling his friend into a tight hug. They held each other like a life line and Harry had to wonder at how alone both must have been over the years.

"Pettigrew is alone. We should grab him now." was the first thing out of the Professor's mouth when he regained his voice. Both men were pulling themselves together while Harry shook his head.

"Ron will kick up a fuss if his rat goes missing and likely take it out on Crookshanks."

"A right clever cat, that one is." Sirius interjected.

"I know. What I am saying is that we need Ron on board but that wont be easy. Especially considering how stubborn the sill prat is." the disgust in his voice surprised them. Cursing his slip up he attempted to explain. "Their motivation for befriending me is highly suspicious and they act a bit different when I am away. More self-involved and aloof, so I have had a few friends watch them and found that the two of them have been reporting to Dumbledore. They are being manipulated into pushing me into tasks that he has planned out, like the issue with the Philosopher's Stone and fighting the Basilisk."

"Basilisk? What Basilisk?" Sirius' pitch rose sharply at the thought.

"The one I killed last year." He rolled up his sleeve to show the dark purple scar from the fang. His Godfather squeaked at the sight. "Fawkes saved me but it was a close thing." the Animagus whimpered softly.

Remus cleared his throat softly, "We will come back to this later," he vowed firmly with a look that told Harry that he wouldn't be escaping that fate. "but for now, what would be this years test?"

"The situation with Sirius, I guess." All eyes turned to the convict. "Why did you escape Azkaban?"

"Because I wanted Peter." Sirius answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But why now? You have known for years he was alive so why risk it all this year?"

"Fudge came by to taunt me about something that I don't really remember but he left a newspaper behind. The Weasleys were on the front page, having won some kind of prize, and that was when I saw him. Wormtail was in the boy's, Ron's arms and all I could think about was escaping, killing him and finding you." Harry gave the desperate man a smile that had him calming.

"Has Fudge ever visited you before?" the convict shook his head, "And the Weasleys just happened to win a Lottery that was sure to get them in the papers. All of it was well orchestrated with no direct connection to the Headmaster."

Remus looked sceptical, "This is all circumstantial." he felt the need to point out.

"Were you hired before or after Sirius broke out?"

"Before."

"And you are likely the only person able to identify Padfoot."

"Snivillus probably could." Sirius admitted painfully.

"That is besides the point. Do you think that the Headmaster would not realize that an Animagus was residing, hidden, withing these walls? He could see me under an invisibility cloak so I know he has some sort of alert system." the two men descended into an uncomfortable silence, questioning their leader for the first time.

"So... what do we do?" Sirius ventured eventually. Harry wondered if they realized that they, two full grown and relatively mature wizards, were looking to a thirteen year old to lead them. He decided not to mention it, mainly because it suited his purpose.

"We let the plan play out." He stated firmly, not letting them question him yet. "He obviously want's you to have a chance at freedom, so we follow his little plan while we twist it to our purposes. I have a way of trying to see what will happen but it will take a day or so to set up. Abel will have to watch over me as I'll be out of it for the most of Sunday."

"Is it one of those web things you do?"Sirius asked eagerly, confusing Remus.

"Yes, but in a different field than healing. This one will allow me to see a few of the possibilities for the future. There is a girl inn second year that I want to talk to before I do anything but I doubt she will have more than a few answers."

"Wait. You're a Seer?" Remus was having to struggle a bit to accept all the new, and world changing information he had been given that day.

"Not a Seer, no, but I can do things that will get me close. The students should be returning from Hogsmead soon." He glanced at the softly ticking clock hanging on the wall to confirm. "Why don't we meet here Monday night for a detention I am sure to get in DADA. By then I should have a better idea of what we will need to do."

They all agreed quietly, the past few minutes feeling like hours and thoroughly exhausting the older men. Harry slipped out of the classroom and sent his tired Dog-father back to the Room of Requirement, mentally asking the school to open the door for him. He wandered a few hours around the garden and castle walls, following the gentle mental nudges that led him to areas that irritated Hogwarts. At least as much as a semi-sentient magical building could be irritated. Mostly it was pests and weeds that he obliterated in her name, but one was a lonely, unkempt garden that was hidden in the shadows of the school. The tumbling glass overhang on ivy-embraced posts told him that it might have once been a part of the greenhouses. Unable, and more than a little unwilling, to scourge the whole area, he sent his intentions to the school and she settled and returned to contentedly monitoring her inhabitants. Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and penned a small but detailed map of the path to the garden. He added a short note saying 'Your next Birthday gift will never be able to compare but I know you'll love it'. He didn't sign it, only banishing it to the hidden compartment in his best friend's trunk, continuing the method of communication they had set up in their first year. He stilled for a moment in his track to the dining hall, belatedly realizing that his wary circle of trusted people was growing steadily.

His smile was still present as he entered the Great hall. He searched for, and found, the tumbling mass of silver-blond hair, tucked behind an ear holding a dangling radish, at the Ravenclaw, but he detoured when he caught sight of the fainting show Malfoy was putting on. The Slytherins watched his approach with mocking amusement but that slipped into shock when he yanked Malfoy out of his seat by the scruff of his robes and hauled him bodily to the doors. He looked back only once, at the sound of scrambling feet, and his pursuers froze at the icy, malevolent anger in his eyes. His temper, frayed by the long day of revelation with only a small amount of good interspersed, had no time, nor mercy, for for the likes of them. They saw this, bewildered by the fact that it was the Golden Boy that they were seeing it attached to, and sat back down in a cold sweat.

There were no more obstacles as he led them to a deserted classroom and tossed the platinum blond in lightly. Harry locked and shielded the room and glared at the stumbling boy. Malfoy pulled himself together in preparation to tear the Gryffindor apart verbally but stilled, like his housemates, at the look in his eyes.

"Do you know what a Dementor does to a person?" Harry asked quietly into the uneasy silence, startling Malfoy. When he refused to answer, Harry did instead. "They pull forth your worst memories, your biggest regrets, and feed off of the despair it brings. Most people have never done or seen anything that would cause them to be effected beyond a bone deep chill and a loss of happiness. For others, like prisoners within Azkaban, they relive those memories again and again."

A calculating look had entered pale blue eyes and a cruel smirk twisted handsome features. "And what do you see Potter? Your muggle relatives smacking you for dirtying the floors?"

Frost slowly crept up the stone walls, dropping the rooms temperature until their breath was scarcely visible. Harry held his temper in check, just barely, but only because he could still sense the one thing in the boy before him that nearly had him choosing Slytherin in First year. Instead he answered with brutal honesty.

"The one time I dirtied the floor they belted me until there was more blood then dirt, then made me clean it up." Malfoy actually stopped breathing for a moment, eyes comically wide, "What do I see? Sometimes I am stuck in the little cupboard under the stairs, that I called my room for most of my life, starving, bleeding and gagging myself so that no noise would disturb them and make things worse. Other times I am being held down by my uncle after he comes home drunk and my aunt refuses his... affections. Those usually end with a trip to a bribed physician once he sobers enough to blame me for 'seducing' him and teaches me a lesson." Malfoy's gasping breaths puffed out in the air in small white clouds. "However, most of the time I hear _His_ laughter ringing in my head while he kills my parents, over and over and over again. That is the only real memory I have of them."

"Why?" Draco whispered after a long stretch of silence. Harry knew that this information was prime fodder for the media pigs, and handing it to his rival was apparent social suicide, but Harry had his reasons. The shaken and confused expression, scored with a hollow understanding, served to stifle his simmering anger. His cutting tone gentled as a result, the frost slowly receding.

"I need you to understand that if you continue with these kinds of attacks and it escalates between us, there will be no reconciliation. No chance at friendship."

"Friendship?" Draco scoffed, snapping back to himself, "You rejected my offer of friendship, remember?"

"No." he replied evenly and the Slytherin bristled. "I rejected the persona you presented. If I had rejected you, I would have completely ignored you." The last of Harry's anger drained away at the lost little boy look on Draco's face. He sat himself on a desk with a tired sigh and explained. "I like you just fine, Malfoy, but I hate the mini-Lucius mask you slip on in public. Your more yourself when we fight so I became your rival. If I had accepted your hand that first day and followed you into Slytherin, I would never have gotten past your barriers and we would have ended up hating each other, likely tearing the house apart. That is also why I chose to go into Gryffindor."

"'Chose' Gryffindor?" he breathed, harry nodded.

"The Hat thought I would do better in Slytherin but there are more advantages I can use in the lions den. Considering how quick the public turns on me without the stupid Snake stigma, it was a good choice."

Draco side stepped the overtly Slytherin reasoning and moved along to his next question. "Don't we already hate one another?"

"Do we really? What's my favourite colour?"

"Aqua blue." he answered automatically, startled that he knew at all.

"And yours is golden yellow. Your favourite food is treacle tart with a warm mug of butterbeer. Your favourite animal is the falcon because they are proud fighters that live in the air."

"You like salads with little dressing and a naked, bitter tea. You don't have a favourite animal but you seem to be theirs." Harry chuckled at the accurate description. "I never noticed how much I knew about you."

"The only people who know each other so well are usually lovers or rivals. I don't love you, Malfoy, but I can truthfully say that I have never hated you. I've just been waiting for you to grow up and step out of that shadow your father is throwing."

Draco tried to get indignant, he really did, but he wanted that just as much. "So what now?"

Harry shrugged, "Nothing really has to change. You wont be the first friend I have that is a secret. Ron and Hermione are still with me because I would rather have Dumbledore's little lapdogs where I can see them. For now."

Draco's face brightened considerably, "I don't have to make nice with the Weasel?"

"That would give away the game, now wouldn't it? But even when everything comes out I wont really care one way or the other. I don't know if he will ever be trustworthy enough to be brought into the fold but I really dislike how he treats his family. He just doesn't understand lucky he is to have not only supportive parents but so many siblings to go to when he needs to. He treats them like shite sometimes."

Draco agreed with a nod. "Pissed me right off the first time I saw the pillock at the Kingscross. Lets see him survive a week at my home then treat his mum like that again." Harry smiled at the offended tone. "Are all the Weasleys free to target, or just him?"

"I'm not gonna tell you not to but here a bit of advice. Ginny, the only female, is a vicious little hell cat who has survived six older brother, two of them being the Twins, little worse for wear. She has also been loyal since I saved her life last year." Harry could see the gears moving behind blue eyes as Draco reassessed the youngest Weasley. "Fred and George are my contacts, if you ever need to talk to me quick, as everyone approaches them for some reason or another. The code is any sentence with either Moony, Padfoot or Prongs in it. They'll set up a meeting for that day. Use all three and they'll get you to me as fast as possible." Harry cast a Tempus charm wandlessly and cursed softly. Dinner was half over and he still needed to speak to Luna. "We have to cut this short or people will come looking for bodies."

"Agreed. How do we present ourselves?"

"That I have covered. They probably followed us not long after I dragged you out of the hall." Harry dropped the wards and opened to door to reveal his two best friends.

"Blaise?" Harry chuckled at Draco's blatant disbelief.

"We all met in the library often enough that we became friends." He explained, "Neville and I were escaping our house and Blaise was doing some extra research in Herbology. We've been best friends since first year."

"How are we going to do this?" Neville asked, amused at the nonverbal conversation going on between the two Slytherins.

"Draco and I will rough each other up some and you two will lead us into the hall again like you pulled us apart. Standard house rivalry stuff."

Draco smirked, rolling his shoulders. "How real do you want this to look?"

"Who ever said it would be fake?" Harry's grin was bloodthirsty. Neville swore harshly behind him but he wasn't fast enough to stop the fist that whipped out to strike the wide eyed blonde on his left cheek. It wasn't as hard as he could hit but it would leave a mark. Draco stumbled back, shocked but unhurt, until anger flared in blue depths and he launched himself at Harry. The dark haired male's grin grew as he took the hits, shifting slightly so they landed on non vital areas. It was nothing like fighting his winged brother, but for the first time in months he was able to release some of the built up tension. His mood seemed to be catching as an answering baring of teeth was creeping onto Draco's face. Harry couldn't help but think that the Slytherin would fit well with ever growing circle of family.

Eventually, Blaise and Neville were able to pull them away before the hits became too hard, and dragged them back to the Great Hall. They snarled insults at each other as they entered, bruises already starting to show, but they separated with little fight. Harry visibly calmed himself down and broke away from Neville, with assurances of his his behaviour just loud enough for the students nearby to hear. He made his way towards his original destination at the Ravenclaw table and settled beside the second year blonde in one of the surrounding seats that had been kept clear. He gathered food onto his plate and ignored the sceptical and disapproving looks.

"Did you enjoy your sparring?" Luna's dreamy voice interrupted his systematical gathering of food groups for all of a second.

"Quite a bit, yes." he admitted. He had to visit his brother soon to get in a real sparring session in. "How are you faring?"

"Very well, thank you, though my shoes do tend to enjoy exploring without me. I do not mind so much as all things should have a bit of adventure in their lives but it does tend to leave my feet a bit chilled." Frowning, Harry leaned back to peer under the table and sure enough, her stocking clad feet wriggled free of protection.

"Do they now?" cold jade eyes swept the row of young Ravenclaws. None could meet his gaze directly without flinching violently. "You would think that those belonging to a house praised for its intelligence would be above such debasing acts." Shame flushed the faces of those in both younger and older years within hearing range.

"Silly, we both know that shoes are never so intelligent. I am sure that they will return soon enough." she patted his arm comfortingly and he dismissed the rest of the Ravenclaw house utterly.

"In the meantime, perhaps the Lady would be willing to help me in a project I will be doing this weekend."

"Would I have to venture too far from the beacon?" she asked with a bit of worry, surprising Harry.

"You found that? Don't worry. I will be with you through the journey, as I am only asking you to be my companion. A second set of eyes to witness my work. I will always lead you back to the border lands."

Slowly, like she was moving through water, she nodded her agreement. "We will need thread."

"I know a source."

"They will have to be delicate. Do you have an anchor?"

"A part of me should be enough. Have you ever made a true web before?"

She shook her head sadly, misty blue eyes looking at him for the first time. "Only small catchers that give me glimpses."

He graced her with an indulgent smile and picked up her right hand gently. There was no darkened nail tinting that delicate hand but he felt the talent in her anyways.

"I am no Widow." she confirmed mournfully.

"You are young yet. Shall we begin now?"

"Lets." they stood together, Harry hastily filling his plate and handing it to the blonde with a napkin to cover it. Even she squeaked softly when he stooped slightly and scooped her into his arms. He swore she had the bones of a bird, she was so light.

"You didn't think I was going to let you walk barefoot, did you?" He smirked as they left a hall of shocked and tittering students behind. Hogwarts herself opened and closed the door for Harry and his burden.

Outside he called in a pair of slippers and a cloak for her before he set her down on the steps. He wolfed down his food quickly and vanished the plate before he led them down the path into the forest. It was a walk that he hadn't made for nearly a year and this time his companion was much more welcome. The forest became unnaturally dark as the trees got thicker. The feeling of eye watching them would have been unsettling if that hadn't been what he was looking for. Luna glided softly behind him, studying the part of the forest that she had never been to before. Silvery wisps and soft chittering had him changing his direction slightly to follow the subtle path until he climbed into a familiar and ominous clearing. He made sure to give Luna a hand down, though he never let down his guard.

"Willingly you enter the home of my family." an ancient voice rasped from the shadows of a cave made of tree roots. "Do not think you will escape us again, human. No matter that you are a friend of Hagrid."

Harry didn't flinch or cower from the aged spider, or the mass of spiders descending from trees. He simply bowed respectfully, "Greetings, Elder Aragog. I have come to strike a bargain with you and your children."

"A bargain?" the voice was filled with both anger and amusement. "what payment could a human give to my family of starving children?"

"Food." was the simple answer. He ignored the spiders that were advancing from behind, thinking he did not notice them.

"Why should we accept when we could just eat you?" as if that was a signal, the closest spider launched itself a the duo, venom dripping from its mandibles. Harry didn't turn as it bounced off the shield he had created the moment they had first seen the bits of web.

"Because that is impossible. Besides, you don't seem to understand me. I did not mean a single offering of food, I meant a continuous and regulated supply."

The angry chittering quieted around them. "A... regulated supply?"

"So that your population does not exceed its current mass. The balance of the forest would be in jeopardy." he explained.

"And what would you require from us?" Aragog was still highly wary of the offer, though clearly intrigued.

"Your silk." he answered evenly. Everything stilled when the chittering stopped abruptly.

"Our silk?" Aragog hissed, "What use could a human have for our silk?"

"A great many things." Luna's dreamy voice drifted in while Harry took out a spool of silvery thread.

"This is simple spider silk that I was able to harvest from a nest of willing mundane spiders this summer. This is the last of it but it should be enough for a single web if you allow me to demonstrate, Elder."

The giant spider agreed with a click of his mandible and Harry called in a stool and a simple wooden frame. Acromantula of all sizes crowded the border of his shield to watch, just like the witch inside the shield, to see what kind of web a human could make. It was a simple healing web of his own creation that would ease the stiffness and pain in the joints and muscles of every living being in a ten foot radius. His movements were smooth and well practised, precise in his ever action, and when he finished he held up the web to display the intricate pattern. Before the ancient spider could speak, Harry began to sing. It was soft and low, but they all shivered as the Witch Song swept over them and the web took affect.

"What are you, human, to use spider silk this way?" Aragog's voice was almost reverent.

Harry didn't answer. "That is only a healing web with mundane silk. With a coiling of Acromantula Silk I could heal from near death or, as I am hoping to do, foresee what is to come without cementing it into prophecy, and so much more."

Aragog clicked and chittered harshly, the crowd of spiders pulling back, all but one small spider that was about the size of Harry's palm. "She will stay with you, providing her silk until her growth prevents stealth. At that point, another will replace her."

"They will act as my familiar when not with Harry." Luna decided, and Harry found It appropriate as she was the only girl he had found that was even remotely close to being a Black Widow. He watched as she stepped out of the shield to pick up the arachnid and smiled when she settled it into her hair, where it clung like an overlarge broach. The brunette smirked at the thought of the Ravenclaws trying to bully her now.

"The bargain is made then?" He asked carefully, dropping the shield completely.

"Yes. It is made."

Harry didn't relax but he was relived, "You feed twice a month and hibernate the three coldest months in the winter, yes? Dobby." He didn't wait for an answer as he called the oddly dressed house elf, who arrived with a pop.

"Everything is like Master Harry Potter wants it sir. Dobby only needs to call in shipment." the creature bowed repeatedly, which was something Harry still hadn't been able to break him of.

"Good. This is the area that you will be delivering to twice a month and four times at least in November. No deliveries are to be made after that until they awake in March. Understand?"

"Yes sir, Master Harry Potter sir. Dobby will remember always." the House Elf snapped his bony fingers and a small group of perhaps fifteen various breeds of animal livestock filled the clearing. There were sheep and cows and even a llama mixed into the disoriented group.

"Will this be enough?" He asked over the sudden increase in noise.

"More than. You and yours are welcome here Harry Potter." Aragog half spoke, half chittered as his offspring descended on their prey. Not wanting to watch the feeding, Harry thanked them and led Luna, along with their new companion, out of the forest.

"Busy day." she declared, arm looped around Harry's elbow. They had just reached the main doors, which opened for him like usual and Harry was grateful for the three days he had spent befriending Hogwarts in his first year.

"And tomorrow will be even more so. Shall I collect you at breakfast?" they stopped at the cross section of stairs that led to their different common rooms. He could have led her the entire way but he didn't want to tip off her bullies just yet. She agreed and they parted. Once he reached his dorm he found that Scabbers, A.K.A Pettigrew, had gone missing, presumed dead. He was properly sympathetic to Ron but quietly supportive to Hermione, who a change in her attitude this year if only a little bit, thinking more of Harry's welfare than Dumbledore's plans. It was still not enough for him to fully trust her yet, however.

He escaped finally, to his bed and found Abel curled up on the blankets at the foot of it. He closed and locked the curtains and allowed himself to really think about what had happened. Everything had changed today and it would all change again tomorrow, and the situation, crazier than any he had been in before, began to press on him. He had not realized he was shaking until Sirius' human form crawled under the blankets to curl around him, holding him while he wept silently. It was the first time in this world that anyone had ever done that for him.

When he dreamed that night he ran to his unicorns for comfort like he always did. He spent hours surrounded by them, telling the story of his last three years, knowing that it would pass to the other kindred soon enough. There was shock, outrage, worry from all of his friends but mostly, as he spoke of that days events, the simple comfort he craved. So engaged was he in his telling, Harry missed the threads already spreading out to other kindred and known friends of the wizard, allowing them to listen in. If he had, he might have noticed the very few of the Blood with the darkest of Jewels eavesdropping in curiosity on the widespread tale. He also never knew that moments after he woke to his world again, the mystic Lady, that he was so drawn to, and her immediate family arrived in the unicorn valley. So began the subtle hunt for the Boy-Who-Lived, one that he would never know he was the subject of. It would be months before the hunters would think to approach the women once subservient to Witch.

Harry seemed to disappear to the majority of the population of the school, to two thirds of the Golden Trio as well, on Sunday. To those that knew him well, however, he had holed himself, Luna and Sirius in a very spartan version of the Room of Requirement. Luna had taken one look at Sirius, in his Abel form and turned to Harry.

"It is strange to keep a convict as a pet."

"He's innocent." he answered, unfazed, even as Sirius froze in his tracks. "He was framed by a rat."

"Ronald and his pet do not suit each other." She allowed, " You should really let them know of the consequences of their betrayal."

"Hopefully today will give me some of the answers I need so as to help guide me in decisions such as that. What are your thoughts on Hermione?" Sirius quietly caught up to them, seeing Luna in a whole new light.

"Ginerva might be able to straighten her out. She was not born to this world and has only found acceptance through the Headmaster's meddling. She might be hiding just as much as you are. Then again, she might be so caught in his lies she can no longer see the truth of things."

He had to admit that he had never thought of that and he mulled over it until they got settled, when he dismissed it for more important matters. Harry collected the thread that Luna had harvested from Arkeet, which it what she had decided to name every spider that acted as her familiar, while he rattled off instructions to his Godfather. They wouldn't be unconscious but they would be so far into the visions that they would not be able to take care of their bodies if something were to happen.

A single, magical clock ticked away on the far wall as Harry wove his web in a frame of ash wood on a low stand. Luna caressed the wood as she watch his deliberate and delicate movements, soaking in all the information she could. Five crystallized drops of blood, four of Harry's and one of Luna's to connect her to the pattern, anchored the web to the frame and at the centre was a mix of Harry's blood, tears and venom, though Sirius didn't know that.

As the hours past, with little change, others began to join the escaped convict, who changed into Abel the first time the door opened. Blaise Zabini was the first, who found a corner where a plush chair appeared, and watched Harry with an intensity that startled the Animagus. He was followed shortly by Remus and Neville, who had met outside the door. The Gryffindor joined the Slytherin, only his gaze took in both figures pouring over the web. The clock had ticked well past eight at night when Hedwig swooped in from a hidden window above them to settle at the head of Zabini's chair and the youngest Weasley slipped in the door.

It was twenty minutes to curfew when both Harry and Luna pulled back from the finished Web with a shudder. Harry tumbled off his stool, trembling while Luna wrapped her thin arms around herself and wept quietly. Ginny rushed forward to fold her year-mate in a comforting embrace, snapping the males out of their stupor. Neville and Blaise reached Harry first, the Slytherin pulling the smaller teen into his lap, and Neville summoned a bucket just as he started to gag. Once the heaving stopped, Abel pawed his way into Harry's arms, adding considerable weight to Blaise's legs, while Remus checked him over.

"We should get him to the infirmary." the werewolf announced worriedly.

"No!" Harry gasped out, "No one can know of what happened here. There is nothing wrong with me but if we go to the infirmary then Pomfrey will ask questions we can't answer." his firm look made the Professor back down reluctantly. Being able to focus again Harry breathed deep and pulled himself together.

"What was that? What happened?" Ginny asked, rubbing soothing circles onto Luna's back.

"That was a tangled web. A glimpse of the future without completely predicting it. To see it means we can change it. To predict it means that the destination is set and only the path is flexible."

"Where did the spider come from?" Neville asked curiously, moving over to Luna to wipe away her tears with a handkerchief.

"He made a bargain with the Acromantula tribe in the Forbidden Forest for their silk. She is my familiar until the next replaces her." The spider in question was studying the intricate pattern of the web while being careful to stay on the frame.

"What did you see?" Blaise asked the more important question, his arms still wrapped around the teen who was now leaning against him. Harry shook his head slowly, one hand buried in Abel's fur, the other absently resting over the Slytherin's much darker hand.

"I can't tell you, not yet. There is too much to do and I can't have any preemptive changes, planned or not, until I trigger my own."

"If we don't know then we can't disrupt your attempts, right?" the professor guessed, earning a nod.

"So what do we do?" Ginny stepped forward, handing Luna over to Neville's more padded arms.

Harry sighed, pushing a whining Abel off him and pulled away from Blaise. "You I need to talk to Hermione. Open her eyes to what she is doing by siding with Dumbledore and see if you can bring her to our camp. Sometime this week I am going to take Neville to the Whomping Willow and we are going to get to know it better." the chubby boy's face lit up over the mass of blonde hair. "Blaise, can you get me some books of old laws and Pureblood protocols?"

"Easily. You will have them by the weekend."

"Thanks. Professor, I'll need you to broker a deal with Hagrid for me and I'll give you the details for it later." Remus nodded, standing. "Hedwig, do you think you are up to delivering quite a few letters for me?" The indignant hoot was echoed by the scathing admonishment in his head. He smiled and thanked her silently. He studied his friends, old and new, and swore to himself that what he saw would never come to pass.

"You should head out while I pack up. It's almost curfew." They all agreed and set out. Neville escorted the Ravenclaw back to her dorm before heading to his own, and the others set off to start on their own tasks. Soon it was only Remus and Abel left and the dog shifted back to his human shape. Harry carefully wrapped the web in velvet, the open faces covered by fitted wooden lids, before turning to face them. "Sirius, I need you to do some thing that I know won't be easy."

"Anything." he promised passionately.

"Emancipation." The adults stilled, just as he expected them to.

"Harry I..." the convict couldn't finish, choking up.

"Soon I will need to take steps that I can't while Dumbledore and the ministry still hold my legal independence over me. Only my legal and magical guardian can give me the freedom I need and while Dumbledore would like for me to believe that he is that guardian, convict or not you are still the one my parents chose." he sat in Blaise's abandoned chair and opened his arms. Sirius fell to his knees and curled his arms around the teen, pressing his face into his belly. Remus watched, bemused, as the older male sought comfort from the younger like a child with a grandparent. "This doesn't mean that I don't want you Siri. I just need the freedom to maneuver. Do you understand?"

Harry ran his hands through the mass of hair, his magic untangling the strands before they reached his fingers. He felt the minute nod from the Animagus and smiled sadly. He looked to Remus, who obligingly joined them, stroking Sirius' bony back.

"There is one other, very important, thing I need from you that will probably take years." hundreds of plans were running through his head, being considered and rejected even as two pairs of hopeful eyes turned on him. There was one thing that all of his plans included. Training. "I need you to teach me how to be an Animagus."

The days drifted by quickly after that, with Harry penning letters to the Gringotts Goblins and, after a few replies, the people they recommended. The twins, after a long talk with Harry and their previously unrealized idols, spent a bit more time around their older brother, rebuilding the frayed relationship they hadn't know they were severing. Percy, suspicious at first, surprised them all with how supportive he was once he found out that all the pranks and shenanigans had a purpose and that the twins were actually planning for the future. Weeks later Fred would quietly confess that they had never noticed that Percy was the only brother they shared their drive and ambition with. The only difference between them was their ultimate goals. Harry hoped that the new connection would divert the split in the family that he had seen, but only time would tell.

Weekends he spent teaching Luna all she could learn about Black Widow craft in a few stolen hours. The rest of the time he spent putting the pieces of his plans together while keeping up appearances with Ron and Hermione, the latter of which was fairly rundown from her extra classes.

He and Neville had visited the Willow three days after Harry had made the web. The bespectacled wizard had approached first, dodging branches and trembling roots as he tried to make contact with the consciousness of the tree. The presence was so different, though, from the kindred or even Hogwarts that he only sensed a vague awareness until his fingers brushed bark. The anger and terror that flooded his mind shocked him enough that he missed the low branch swinging at his midriff. When it hit he instinctively clung to it as it pushed him up into the higher branches. He gathered his bearings and gained a stable enough hold to launch himself at another passing branch further up. He jumped from on to another, avoiding blows, until he had seated himself in the hollow at the tip of the trunk where the largest branches started. He had a moment of panic when it seemed that the thick branches would pull together and crush him but free movement seemed to be limited to farther away from the trunk. Using the same method he had used for Hogwarts, Harry dove into his power core, into that vibrant and dark place that soothed him, and surrounded the terrified plant. He saturated ever leaf and root with his power until he breathed with the Willow. Its flailing violence slowed and stopped as his intentions pressed on the spirit of the tree. The Whomping Willow didn't have a mind to connect with but it could send images and feelings to him. What it sent was the pain and fear of being uprooted and the unnatural feeling of being planted in an unfit place. It wasn't as healthy as it should be and its roots were forced to curve around the tunnel below. Then there was the fear of being hurt again when children kept trying to touch its bark and the knot at the base of its trunk that froze its sap painfully when pressed. Worried, he zeroed in on the knot and sure enough, it was meant to stop the Willows movements. Gently he severed the magical connection between the tree and knot only to reconnect it again with a simple alert. He explained, in a primitive way, that if it felt the alert it would have to still on its own to keep the illusion. It gratefully agreed, rustling its vines happily, and Harry felt like this would be a good time to introduce his best friend.

With a mental question, the wizard stepped down from his perch, using the waiting branches as a staircase to land in front of Neville. Said teen was gaping at him in wonder and awe, which didn't acknowledge when he grabbed his limp hand and pulled him into the swaying branches. He pressed his friends palm into the thick bark and connected their thoughts together firmly so that he would not be needed again. He backed out of range of the limbs and left the two of them to get acquainted. Hours later, when he was studying in the library, Neville surprised him by hugging him out of the blue, without a word, then running off again. Ron and Hermione had been confused and disturbed but Harry had shrugged it off with a smile.

Blaise had pulled through as promised, providing in-depth volumes of some of the most ancient laws in the Wizarding world. In the weeks that followed Harry sequestered Blaise or Draco, in secret, to ask for clarifications on certain points or if there were any contradictions in newer laws. Soon enough he got the information needed to go ahead, which prompted more letters, and a formal and sealed one from Sirius, to Gringotts. Hedwig got a good work out when they were distributed accordingly.

The paperwork went through just in time for the panicked non-missive from Hagrid that told them that Buckbeak had lost his trial. Harry had spoken to Draco about the incident and found out that Lucius Malfoy had learned about the attack through Goyle's father and had taken matters into his own greasy hands. Meeting Fudge during the exams, along with the committee member, told Harry that they had no clue as to his involvement yet, which he would use to his advantage. When he found that his exam with Trelawney nearly completely overlapped the appointment for the appeal, he opted out, not really needing the mark, and slipped away when Ron wasn't looking. At the main doors he met his two guests, apologizing for the delay, and set off for Hagrid's hut, arriving just in time.

"Good evening gentlemen. I am here for the appeal." he stated politely. The elderly representative eyed him and his companions speculatively, assessing their importance. Fudge was baffled, gaping like a fish as he recognized one of his top agents from L&O law. The executioner was glowering darkly at Harry from behind Hagrid's beaming face.

"May I introduce Artemis Pennygood, from the Lands and Ownership law offices in the Ministry, and my solicitor Graham Secrate." Artemis nodded to her superior and greeted the committee member. Graham, an up-and-coming Lawyer that was becoming well know for his viciousness in legal matters, simply tilted his head to them all.

"Ah, Harry..." Fudge bumbled, unsure, "this is and appeal for a dangerous creature. I don't believe you have much of a purpose here, nasty business as it is. Surely you haven't finished you exams?"

"All that matter." Harry shrugged.

"My client has every right to be here." Graham barked, making the Minister jump. His hard grey eyes and youthful face belied the low boom of his voice. "It is his property you are attempting to dispose of without consulting him."

White, bushy eyebrows rose in question as the councilman turned to Fudge, who in turn spun to face Hagrid. The half giant shrugged his massive shoulders. "I tried ta tell ye at the trial bu all ye folks kept talkin' o'er me. Couldna get a word in."

Fudge sputtered as Graham produced the paperwork that proved Harry's purchase weeks ago. The councilman looked them over critically.

"This does not change the fact that the animal did attack a student." the aged man reminded. The Executioner smirked.

That expression vanished, however, when Graham produced five bottles of silvery liquid that were labelled and sealed. "I have here three memories of the incident from students in the class and two from Sixth Year students that in the area for a Herbology project. They prove the docility of the creature in question before it was provoked, which was clearly warned against." the councilman's wrinkled brow creased even more in a frown.

"You have a Pensive?" the Solicitor un-shrunk a basic one, that had been slightly modified as per Harry's request, which was used for small court witnesses. The elderly man observed each memory, after cracking the seals that proved they were valid and uncorrupted, one by one. He was silent after exiting the last one, his lips curled down, and Artemis took the opportunity to step up.

"Perhaps," her soft voice drew attention better than any yell could, "we should observe the beast itself?"

"Yes!" Fudge jumped on the chance. "That's an excellent idea, just the thing to do. We shall get this straightened out quick enough."

They filed out of the small hut and circled around to the pumpkin patch. Buckbeak was chained in the centre and cawed and snapped at the advancing group. Fudge looked vindicated, seeing the violent behaviour, and turned to the councilman but deflated when the Hippogriff caught sight of Harry. The change was immediate. Instead of pulling away from them, Buckbeak bounded forward, hopping sideways at the end of his chain, crowing happily while trying to reach the teenager. Dodging Fudge's grasping hand, Harry stepped well within the Hippogriff's space. The large animal folded around him, laying on the ground, with one wing draped over his left shoulder and the eagle head butted against his chest until Harry stroked its downy feathers. His beak lolled open when he scratched the area where feathers met wings. Even Hagrid was shocked at the display.

"Yes," Artemis drawled sharply, "A terribly vicious beast, I see. I do believe its tail is wagging." indeed the horse hair tail was flicking from side to side in contentment.

"You have made your point Mr. Potter." the councilman admitted solemnly, though he looked far more intrigued than before. "May I ask how you intend to house your newest acquisition, as you cannot keep him here."

"Once we are done here Buckbeak will be joining the other magical creatures I own at my outfitted manor in Scotland. It is where most of the specimen used in Care of Magical Creatures will be coming from as Hagrid is currently stocking up my... menagerie."

"H-how is this possible?" Fudge sputtered, eyes wide. "You have no access to your inheritance! You are too young!"

Graham was the one to field the questing. "My client was awarded his lands and monies under the Protected Heirs Act. It states that any underage heir, with no immediate magical relatives, will be granted their holdings if sufficient magical strength is proven to be held by the petitioner. The Goblins confirmed his capabilities through donated and tested blood and found him well above the requirements.'

"Impossible! I have never heard of such a law."

Artemis took over and Harry noted that they made an admirable team. "The law is not often invoked as most heirs cannot reach the required magical strength until their magical puberty."

"Has Mr... Lord Potter gone through his puberty early then?" The councilman surprised them by using Harry's new title.

"No." came her soft, sweet reply.

"It would seem that the matter is settled then." the old man said jovially, "I feel I should warn you, Lord Potter, that Lord Malfoy may seek to press charges for the damages done to his son."

"Oh?" His smile was amused and just a tad bit malicious, "Then perhaps I should report the unprovoked attack he made upon my person at the end of last school year. He was thwarted by a House elf that would be only too glad to testify."

"Quite." There was a twinkle in the aged brown eyes that spoke of amusement that his face gave no hint of. The councilman took that as his cue and strode off towards the castle, a scowling executioner at his heels. Fudge floundered for a moment until he realized that his support was all gone and he rushed to follow. Harry climbed out of the sleepy embrace of the napping Hippogriff only to be swept up into a crushing embrace from a half giant.

"Tha' was brilliant 'Arry. Absolutely brilliant!"he gushed for a few seconds before bursting into relieved tears, babbling his thanks. Harry eventually pried himself free and set Hagrid to packing up Buckbeak for the move in the morning. On the way to the castle he studied his companions critically until he caught their attention.

"You two did really well back there, working together."

"That's our job." Graham announced gruffly, trying not to show his pleasure at the praise.

"Yes, but cornering them before passing them off to the other to keep the opposition off balance was an impressive feat for only a second meeting." Both adults looked at him, startled. "Your chemistry and ethic when together is noteworthy. If you were to go into practice together I know a number of families, a few of them Pureblood, that would appreciate you representing them." He approved when they didn't speak, looking to each other. "Think on it over dinner. There will be some excitement tonight, and likely another case for you to handle."

Harry left them blinking as he disappeared into the castle, Hogwarts welcoming him.

Dinner was filled with mute tension as Hagrid had forgotten to contact Ron and Hermione to tell them the outcome of the appeal. They planned to check on the groundskeeper after dinner but Harry was temporarily waylaid by Trelawney.

"You missed your exam Mr. Potter." she crooned, pulling him aside in the hall way. "Just as I had predicted." Harry waved off the Golden Duo with a reassuring smile that dropped the moment they were out of sight. His eyes were a hard, flat jade as they studied the fraud of a professor.

"You 'predicted' my absence?" he questioned mildly, her large eyes going even wider than usual behind her bottle glasses. "So you knew that I had an unavoidable appointment at two o'clock and yet still delayed my exam? That was very unbecoming of you."

"A-a-a-an appointment, you say?"

"Yes, with the Minister, but you already knew that I'm sure." Jade narrowed and his voice gained a bit of bite.

"Of course, of course." she stumbled, searching for a way to redeem herself in his hard gaze. "I knew, certainly, that- that you would never be able to focus your inner eye with the pressure of meeting the Minister before you."

A devious thought came to him, "So I have failed then? Or shall I give you a prediction that I have seen but never spoken of?"

She perked up excitedly. "The prediction, child. I shall judge if it is truth or falsity"

Harry racked his brain, trying to make a part of the web as vague as possible, "Two events are approaching, one before and one during the school year. One will be more deadly than the last but new alliances shall be borne in the chaos. An imposter shall run through these halls and lead to the rise of horror and the death of the innocent. All will come to pass unless one changes the tides of fate."

"One cannot stop prophecy, mister Potter." Trelawney informed him gravely as she trembled lightly from the impact of his words.

"True, but I don't see prophesy, Professor, only probabilities."

She gasped a breath and went surprisingly rigid. " _ **It will happen tonight.**_ " Her voice had gone loud and harsh. Harry snapped up a sound proof barrier as her eyes started to roll. " _ **The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever before. Tonight... before midnight... the servant...will set out... to rejoin...his master...**_ "

He caught her before she hit the ground, dropping the shield and cursing violently in his head. She came back to herself suddenly, nearly tipping them both over. He righted her gently, aware that even if he didn't like her she was still a Lady and should be treated as one.

"I'm so sorry, dear, the shock of one of my students having such refined vision seems to have given me a bit of the vapours." she fanned herself lightly, trying to push down her blush.

"I-I'm sure Professor. Would you like me to take you to see Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no. I am fine dear. Well done on your exam." she scurried off before he could get a word in edgeways and Harry let it go, fury simmering below his skin. When he caught up to Ron and Hermione he brushed off their questions, saying that Trelawney was just crazy. The followed him to the hut with little fuss after that. They arrived to found that Hagrid was exuberant, insisting that he make them tea, only he was too excited to even hold a milk jug, which had just shattered on the floor. Hermione volunteered to make it herself and, even though he knew it was coming, her shriek made him jump.

It was a happy day for Ron as he fussed over the frail rat. Soon enough Hagrid bustled them out of the cabin, not really explaining what had happened in the appeal, claiming that he needed to get Buckbeak settled for his morning trip. After that things happened quickly with Scabbers frantic struggles, Crookshanks' attack and Sirius dragging Ron into the Willows tunnel. In the panic that ensued, neither Hermione or Ron saw Neville nestled in the branches as he directed the tree to open the passage for them.

They played their parts well, Sirius the half mad attacker, Harry the distraught teenager. Remus arrived, creating a ruckus and prompting Hermione to oust his condition in her hysteria. Remus explained things with more detail than Harry had gotten from Sirius but he only half listened. Instead he waited for the feel of Severus just before he burst through the decrepit door, his wand aimed at Remus. Now that all the players were there he waited just a bit longer, knowing that the opportune moment had not arrived yet. He listened to the juvenile arguments based on old fears and caught the underlying issues. He did his own bit of yelling at the Slytherin Head and he swore to apologize to Blaise later for knocking his favourite teacher out with his disarming spell. Finally they convinced the bullheaded Ron to hand over the squealing rat to Remus, who forced the traitor into human form.

"Hello Peter." came Lupin's dangerously pleasant voice. "Long time no see."

"S-Sirius... Re-Remus..." his grating, squeaky voice spiked Harry's rage, which had dimmed in the hours since his run-in with Trelawney. The room grew cold. "My friends... my old-" he activated his hidden web. The traitor dropped abruptly, startling the two Marauders. They glanced over to see both Ron and Hermione were in similar state.

"Harry?" Sirius' more stable voice broached the subject.

"They are asleep only." he soothed, trying to calm his anger. "There are a few things we must deal with right now." He placed a dark, rippling shield over the room with a wave and woke up the sprawled Professor. Snape sat up with a gasp, grasping about for his wand, only to see Harry calmly holding it out to him. He snatched it up, pointing it at all three of them warily, taking in the nonthreatening stances. He only withheld his curses because he spotted the fallen form of Pettigrew.

"What is the meaning of this Potter." he spat.

"The four of us need to talk, quickly. I assumed you would be more willing to listen if you had a means of defending yourself."

"Very astute, for once, but what is to stop me from knocking you out and dealing with these mongrels myself?"

Harry studied him, unconcerned. "Because you were Lily's best friend since childhood." Snape's wand slip from numb fingers. "You lived on the same street and even knew my Aunt Petunia. You swore to her when I was born that you would look out for me and, essentially you are as much my Godfather as Sirius." Harry swore Snape's jaw had come unhinged the way it was hanging and he did not need to look to see the similar expression on the others.

"How could you possibly know that?" Snape rasped.

"You tell me, or rather show me, four years from now just before you die after saving my life. Again."

"Harry, what-" Remus drew his attention. He didn't have time to sugarcoat things.

"You die in the same battle, in four years, along with your wife-"

" _Wife?_ " Sirius barked out.

"-leaving your newborn son behind and in my care." Remus let out a faint squeak that sounded like ' _Son?_ '. "And you, Sirius, die in two years in the Ministry at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"The Web." Remus breathed, picking up the connection first, "This is what you saw. The future it predicted."

"Only parts. I was shown years and years into the future. Your deaths would have been set, unchangeable, but something happened when I was young. I started dreaming and learning things that let me influence things. Change things."

"Explain, Potter. What 'web' are you talking about." Snape demanded, picking up his wand again.

"I can't. At least not right now. There is no time."

"What could possibly be so pressing?" he snarled, advancing on the teen.

"It's the full moon." His simple words had three heads snapping to the boarded window. "We have at least forty minutes to plan this out but the facts need to be explained to you, Professor." He calmed them down and got the men to focus. "Pettigrew did stand as secret keeper for the Potters. He was the one to betray Lily, not Sirius. Sirius himself was a bloody idiot for leading you into danger during your school years, but remember, he thought you were trying to take Lily from James, who he owed everything to. Besides, there was unfounded jealousy on both sides."

Black eyes sharpened. "Unfounded?"

Harry nodded. "Will you agree to listen to my plan for now?" Black eyes flicked to dumbfounded blue briefly. Remus sniffed the air covertly, looking between the two men, his gold eyes widening in shock. The Slytherin nodded. "Alright. We need to hand Pettigrew over to the Ministry tonight to begin clearing your name, Sirius. Professor Snape, however, can't be involved as, due to a bloody prophesy Trelawney decided to spout off this afternoon, Wormtail will manage to escape somehow and return to Voldemort." the three men sucked in a breath in tandem, which was slightly amusing, "You can't be implicated as a traitor, Professor, not when he is so close to rising again."

"You are sure of this?" Severus whispered.

"Yes. I would not ask you to retake your role as spy in the coming war but I know that Dumbledore will not be as forthcoming. I have already taken steps to assure that Draco has a possible escape from the mark and I have more underway for any Slytherin willing to flip sides." the blatantly grateful expression on the older man's face nearly pained Harry but he plowed on. "Remy will stay here for his change. Siri will be in Abel form and carry Pettigrew back to the castle in a cage where my Solicitor will help set up an impromptu trial for the rat. Sev, I need to knock you out again. Either Hermione or I will be the ones to levitate you out so you can be assured of your safety. Later, in anger over Sirius' possible acquittal, I want you to let it slip to the public about Remy's condition. He needs to be out of the school to help situate Siri for the summer and until his full pardon so he will resign before the public can kick up a fuss."

The three men, as old as his father, blinked at the nicknames more than the plan that they were faced with. Typically, it was Severus that recovered first. "That is... acceptable. But only on the condition that you explain everything you have been hiding these past years."

Harry gave a quick glance to his watch and cringed. They were running out of time. "A week into the summer break. There is a park down the street from Number 4. It will be deserted Thursday night at ten pm."

"Agreed." The Professor collapsed the moment the word passed his lips and Harry placed him back on the mattress. The two other men nodded their agreement, allowing the teen to position them and the others in the room with his craft before releasing the web.

"...friends..." Peter continued, not realizing the time that had elapsed between words. The men fell into their roles again, a bit awkwardly but the anger at the rodent was wholly real. Harry, however, covertly watched his classmates, gauging their reactions. Ron seemed to be stalled in shock, staring at the man who had been his pet for years, and his brother's before that. It made Harry wonder about Pettigrew's penchant for sleeping with young boys. Hermione was the one that impressed him, making connections and asking questions that gave Sirius more credibility. Then Peter began imploring to each of them for safety. Remus first then Ron, who snapped and struck out at the sycophant in disgust despite the pain it caused him. Hermione brushed him off, horrified, before the man finally turned to Harry.

"Harry...Harry... you look just like your father... just like him..." Sirius roared at the crawling man but Harry didn't hear him, so focused was he on Peter, "Harry. Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed...James would have understood, Harry... he would have showed me mercy..."

Sirius and Remus grabbed the rat away from Harry but the teen stopped any further action with a single gesture. Peter's words were it for Harry. Knowing what he did about the future actions of this man, the sins he would commit upon those Harry loved, the young wizard didn't even try to restrain his anger. Every breath visibly puffed in the sudden cold, and frost coated the walls and their clothing. He leaned down to eye level with the trembling creature, his eyes making promises that his words could not in present company.

"You will live, Wormtail," he rumbled softly, the words cutting better than any knife. Sallow skin paled further at the sheer violence promised in that smooth, mesmerizing vocalization. "but not for mercy or my father. You will live for one simple reason. To set Sirius free. Once I have that... well the possibilities are endless."

Pettigrew burst into tears, shivering uncontrollably. Ron gave a quiet 'Bloody hell' from the background.

"Change." he ordered, disgust fairly screaming out of his body language. The rat did as told, without question. Remus transfigured a cage and warded it, while Sirius kept a firm grip on the rodent, before they shoved the creature in and sealed it shut. The room finally started to warm again when Harry turned back to his housemates. "Ron, Hermione, we need to get out of here."

"What? Why?" Ron hopped up on his good leg, glad that the terrifying version of his best friend was gone for now.

"It's the full moon." Remus answered in a strained voice, "And I can feel the change coming fast."

"Oh dear." Hermione steadied Ron quickly. "What about Professor Snape?"

"I'll levitate him out." He cast a quick Feather-Light charm at Ron and Hermione straitened. "Sirius could you-" The convict was already gone, leaving the recognizable form of Abel behind.

"I knew that bloody dog looked familiar!" Ron crowed.

"Wanna carry the rat?" Harry grinned at the dog.

They left just in time, Snape floating down the tunnel in front of them, as an unearthly howl of pain ripped through the air. Harry mourned the gentle man's agony but pushed the group forward. There was nothing he could do for Remy right now but he would talk to a few of his friends to see if he might be able to something about it in the future. If not then he could at least spend the full moons with the man once he achieved his Animagus transformation. Besides the initial cringe at the first howl, Abel trotted along happily once they were free from the tunnel, the cage swinging back and forth in his mouth, tossing the prisoner about. Graham and Artemis were chatting quietly on a bench in the main foyer, waiting like he had suggested, but they fell silent as he passed with his strange little crew. They fell into step behind them without a word.

"Dobby." the little elf popped up instantly, "Please bring the Headmaster and his guests to the infirmary as well as a vial of Veritaserum from the potion stores."

"Yes sir, Harry Potter, sir!" he popped out again and they made their way into the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey descended on them like an hawk after game, putting both Snape and Ron to bed in an instant. She was genuinely shocked when she found that Harry was completely unharmed. Minutes later they were joined by the Headmaster and his Ministry entourage.

"It seems you had an excitable evening, Mr Potter." Dumbledore took in the scene serenely. "Care to explain?"

"Certainly, but first," he cast a petrifying curse on the rat before taking him out of the cage and placing him on an empty bed. "Do you happen to know of spell that can revert an Animagus back to his original form?"

The twice damned twinkle bloomed in blue eyes, "Why yes I do. I assume it is the rodent you wish to check, is it not?"

"Yes, sir." Dumbledore merrily cast the charm, dramatically revealing the frozen man on the bed.

"Good God!" Pomfrey gasped, "That's Peter Pettigrew!"

"Pettigrew? Impossible. Sirius black killed the boy years ago." Fudge denied immediately. Harry had a feeling that this was the kind of thing he could always expect from the man. If something didn't fit with what he wanted, the man would simply deny its existence until the proof to the contrary became too much to do so.

"Obviously not, Minister," the councilman grumbled, also seeing the pattern. "Perhaps we should speak to the fellow about the events of that day."

"Not without this." Harry interrupted, holding the vial Dobby had just delivered. "Veritaserum from professor Snape's stores."

"Absolutely not! This man is a hero!" Fudge blustered, puffing up his chest in an attempt to intimidate the teen.

"Minister," Graham growled, if there was one thing Graham hated, it was people abusing or disregarding laws, "the most ancient and revered of laws state that all suspects and witnesses in murder investigations will be subject to questioning under some form of truth serum or spell to ensure guilt or innocence."

"This begs the question," Artemis spoke before the Minister opened his mouth, "as to why Pettigrew's survival was not discovered years ago when Black was questioned."

Fudge paled alarmingly quick, making a few people worry about his health. Harry was not one of them. The councilman, however, noticed for a different reason. "Surely the full extent of the law was followed in such an important case like Black's."

"He was standing in the rubble laughing! He had just murdered the lad Peter and he was laughing!"

"Apparently," Harry cut through the man's rising frenzy, "he hadn't killed Mr. Pettigrew and I for one would like to know why my Godfather was imprisoned for so long without a trial."

"Y-y-y-y-your G-godfather?" Fudge suddenly could not meet Harry's blazing eyes.

"Yes, Minister, as it was registered at my birth." the sharpness of his voice almost made the man bleed. They were interrupted by McGonagall entering with three Aurors, converging on the group. The councilman smile and patted an unassuming ring on his left hand.

"I activated my emergency summons alarm when we learned his identity." he nodded to the petrified man on the bed. Harry made note to look into getting something like that for himself and his friends for the future. Dumbledore breezily explained the situation to the stunned Aurors, who immediately chained the rodent to two of them before unfreezing him.

"Y-y-you don't understand! I-I-I..." Harry ignored the stuttering, handing the serum to the unchained Auror. Once Peter stilled, his eyes glazed and a vacant expression on his face, the questions started, Graham recording it all with his Pensive.

"What is your name."

"Peter Perrius Pettigrew." the rat stated hollowly.

"Have you been in hiding for the last twelve years?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They will kill me."

"Who?"

"His Death Eaters."

"Why?"

"I lead the Dark Lord to his doom."

"Who was the Potter's Secret Keeper?" Harry asked, earning glares that he ignored. The way the questioning was going he had an idea that the Auror either didn't know what he was doing or he was biased and trying to get Wormtail off the hook.

"I was." heads swivelled back to gape at the rodent.

"Do you serve Voldemort?" nearly everyone in the room flinched.

"Yes."

"For how long have you served him?"

"Since my Seventh year."

"Were you a spy?" The Auror stepped back, recognizing that he had lost his chance to handle the preliminary interrogation. He let Harry condemn the man with his questions.

"Yes."

"Did anyone know you were a spy before the night of His fall?"

"No."

"Did you betray James and Lily Potter to Vol-" he noticed the flinches with a some scorn, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Yes."

"Did Sirius Black try to kill you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He had talked James into taking me as Secret Keeper. He knew what I had done when the wards failed."

"Did he know you were a traitor when he made the suggestion to James?"

"No."

"Did you kill those Muggles when he cornered you?"

"Yes."

"And that is when you faked your own death?"

"Yes."

"Why did you hide within the Weasley family as a pet?"

"They are close with Dumbledore and would have the most news about Harry Potter or the Dark Lord."

Harry steeled himself for his next question, "Why did you betray everyone for You-Know-Who?"

"He promised me things that I wanted."

"And those things were?"

"Power, authority and her."

"Who is Her?"

"Lily. He said I could keep her as my slave if I helped him." Harry didn't notice the blood dripping from his clenched fists or the terrifying blankness to his face but the others did. His tone of voice never changed, however, which unnerved them.

"You have killed in his service?"

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes."

"Would you do it again if you were free?"

"Yes." Ron made a gagging noise that was hushed by Pomfrey.

"If You-Know-Who were to come back, would yo voluntarily rejoin his Death Eaters?"

"Yes."

That was enough for Harry as he raised burning green eyes to glare at the Minister. "I will be pressing charges for the false imprisonment of Sirius Black on his behalf until his name is cleared and he can come forward himself." Fudge could say nothing in the face of Harry's icy rage, simply scrambled for the door. McNair, the Executioner stared at Harry with such hate when he tuned to follow that, if he hadn't already known about the man's allegiances, then he would have started to suspect.

"My," the old councilman chirped, "young people these days bring so much excitement. Don't you agree Albus?"

"Quite so, Edward. Well done Mr. Potter." Sharp brown eyes focused on Harry, who inclined his head slightly to the man, silently admitting that Dumbledore did not know of his status. He saw approval flash on Edward's face for the barest instant and then the two old men were leading the Aurors, their slowly recovering prisoner and McGonagall, out of the room.

Harry turned to his Solicitor. "You willing to take the case? I know you're trying to become a Barrister. If not the goblins can recommend someone."

Graham's face split into a grin that exposed a row of sharp, shark-like teeth that proved Harry's suspicions on his lawyer's inhuman pedigree and explaining why the Goblins liked the bloke so much. "No need for that. First crack at a high profile, Pureblood case against the Ministry? I might just bite you if you try and take it elsewhere, brat."

Artemis smacked him lightly. "We'll take it. Besides, he's already a Barrister. He just hasn't gained the clout for the bigger cases yet."

"'We'?" the first part of her answer had him raising an eyebrow, though the second part made him very pleased with his choice in legal representation.

She smirked, "You gave some good advice, and it doesn't look like that I will be welcome in the Ministry much longer."

"Sorry about that." he tried to apologize but she ruffled his wild hair roughly.

"They never liked the fact that a Muggleborn was better at the job than they were. This is a good step."

"We just need a backer to get us started." Graham hinted, as subtle as a head of elephants. Harry laughed, pulling out a piece of parchment and nicking a pen off of the male lawyer. He wrote a quick and formal note and bit his lip sharply until he had enough blood to smear over his signature on the bottom.

"Take this to Gringotts and they will set up a temporary account for you to access. They will monitor all expenses and fill it accordingly until you get on your feet." The two adults eyes were wide at the implications, "Don't even try to abuse this privilege. For some reason the goblins seem to like me and they will come down on you hard. Retribution could get messy."

"Cheat our backer and only client? Perish the thought." Graham wasn't worried so much about the goblins if they did something like that, but rather the boy, after that little display earlier with Pettigrew.

"Remember that you represent the Black family as well, unless Sirius decides he wants to keep his families original solicitors." Abel growled out a negative, "Which I doubt since they let him go to prison so easily. Not to mention he hated his family."

The two lawyers eyed the dog warily but said nothing. "We will need to meet with our new client to go over the case and other options."

Harry smiled at the woman, "Contact Remus Lupin, the current Defence Professor. They are old friends so he should be able to get a hold of him." Artemis was taking notes on a muggle note pad. "To give you a heads up, he is a werewolf and possibly a future client once I start to tackle creatures rights in a few years."

"Lets deal with what we have in front of us first." Graham hedged, but Harry could see the fervent gleam of excitement in his eyes. With a simple goodbye they rushed out of the castle, eager to start. Harry scrubbed his face with his hands, exhausted from the day.

"H-Harry?" Hermione's timid voice froze the wizard, internally cursing himself. He had completely forgotten they were there.

"What was all that then?" Ron asked accusingly, raising Harry's proverbial hackles.

"They were my lawyers, helping me with some legal matters that I am not able to do on my own."

"Since when do you have lawyers?"

"For about three weeks now. They helped me save Buckbeak earlier today. All that stuff you dug up was dead useful."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione frowned.

"Yeah! We are supposed to be your friends Harry." the betrayal lacing their words pissed Harry right off. No matter what they could become in the future, they had no right to doubt him.

"Tell you? So you could run to Dumbledore with more of my secrets?" Both Gryffindors paled. "I know he planned our meeting, Ron, and that he approached you after that thing with the troll, Hermione. You have been helping him keep tabs on me for years so why should I trust you now with something as important as this?"

"It-it was for your safety." Hermione stuttered.

"From what?" he snapped, and they flinched. "From Quirrel? I had to face him alone, remember, because Dumbledore was mysteriously gone. Perhaps from the Diary or the Basilisk? Who do you think ordered Fawkes to wait until I seriously injured to come help? It was only because I declared loyalty to the man that Fawkes did anything at all."

Hermione was trembling and Ron looked sick but he tried anyways. "He said it would have been worse if he hadn't known."

Harry collapsed on a bed across from them with a sigh. "How many older brothers do you have, Ron?"

"Five." He answered, bewildered.

"Have they ever mentioned adventures like our?"

The reply was slower in coming this time. "No"

"So that is how many years of peace in what's supposed to be the safest place in England?"

"About ten."

"And yet every year for us it is one dangerous event after another."

"The troll, Quirrel, the puzzles, the basilisk..." Hermione was putting the pieces together.

"And now a homicidal convict and a Werewolf teacher. He wasn't using you to keep me safe, he was using you to set up his tests."

"But why?" Ron managed to strangle out.

"What am I?" he tossed out.

"A wizard." Ron answered, thrown by the quick subject change. Harry wave his hand to get him to continue.

"A powerful wizard?" Hermione tried.

"The Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Five points to Ron.' Harry clapped. "But I am also the Heir to the title of Lord for a very old and rich family. I carry influence that he doesn't want me to have just yet. The tests are to train me for a war he knows is coming. He gives me the tests and cultivates the attitude of self sacrificing martyr, but doesn't give me the tools or training that would actually help my survival rate. That is why I don't think he intends for me to live through what's coming."

Abel's head shot up to stare at him in horror and Harry didn't notice Pomfrey's silhouette behind the curtain surrounding Snape's bed as both listened quietly. He was too focused on his thoughts and the ceiling. Ron and Hermione gasped softly, but Harry just continued voicing things he had been holding in for a while, and he was too tired to really filter what he should and shouldn't be saying in present company.

"I've been emancipated here in the magical world but because my main guardians are muggle, I still have to the Dursley's where I have no protection and no means of communication beside Hedwig. I have nothing but my Dreams. Even with those, I always have to wake up." he sighed softly, his eyes drooping. "He is using us all to win himself another war but I'm making rules of my own. This reality might shift because of it though."

His voice trailed off as he gave into what he had been avoiding for days. Madame Pomfrey checked him over, huffing in frustration when she found he was simply exhausted and announced it to the other worried occupants. She reluctantly allowed Abel to sprawl next to the boy on the bed when Harry rolled over and used him as a breathing pillow the moment he settled. The ward was invaded only once that night when a worried Auror checked on them and explained that, due to some unseen help, Pettigrew had escaped. It was three minutes to twelve.

The last two days of school went quickly for Harry. Ron and Hermione had withdrawn from him privately, thankfully keeping up the public image for now. Sirius set off with Remus as Abel when he resigned and Severus stormed about like a living thundercloud, nearly convincing Harry of his anger until he caught the barest of smirks directed at him for an instant during the last dinner. Neville was particularly unwilling to leave the Willow and his newly budding garden hidden behind the school. Harry was only able to convince him to go by helping him leave very detailed and straightforward instructions for Hagrid in their care, and a promise of a birthday gift that would surpass all others. He didn't so much use the gift as a bribe, instead holding it hostage until they were on the train and leaving the school completely before he promised to send it on time. Said gift had him visiting the Willow in secret and penning a request to an unorthodox wand maker in Knockturn Alley with a bit of Neville's hair and a lot of galleons. Hedwig knew that she was to stay with the wand maker to ensure that he wouldn't cheat Harry and to receive the finished product.

Blaise and Draco met him privately, saying their goodbyes while also introducing him to Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass. He observed the Pureblood customs of greetings, throwing them all for a loop when they realized that he was a Lord now. Blaise and Draco had suspected but Harry hadn't had time to personally tell them. They were impressed with the loopholes he had exploited and promised to correspond over the summer if the situation was safe.

His goodbye with Luna worried him. After collecting a reserve of silk from the growing Acromantula, Luna had warned him softly. His world would change this summer, she said, a shift would occur that would affect his entire life. He thought she meant the World Cup but his instincts were telling him otherwise, and he always listened to his instincts.

The train ride was typical, with the addition of Ginny, the twins and Lee Jordan, who the brothers really wanted Harry to approve of. Why they needed him to 'okay' their friend, Harry didn't know but Jordan was nice enough so he gave them the nod. The conversation was easy enough with the red-headed buffer between him and his two yearmates.

"You're sure to be with us for at least part of the summer, mate." Fred announced excitedly.

"I hope so, Fred. Anytime away from the Dursley home is a joy."

"Not to worry, old bean." the twins slipped into the seats beside him, displacing Ginny and Hermione, to drape longs arms behind the younger teen. "Our dear ol' Da gets tickets to the World Quidditch Cup every time"

"He's already upped the number to include you."

"We'll get you out of that house."

"Even if we have to break down the door-"

"-Storm the trenches-"

"-Pull out the windows-"

"Again." Harry smirked.

"-Toss in some dung bombs-"

"-Maybe some frizzing whizbees."

"Or we could-"

"George!" he cut off the speaker, then continued calmly once he had their attention, all the while fighting a grin. "Fred. No need for drastic measures, no matter how entertaining they may be. If they wont let me go I'll simply run away again."

Ginny snorted, "Maybe you'll pick up another long lost Convict."

"I hope not." he stared at her with a wide eyed pathetic look. "All the rest of them actually _want_ to kill me." there was laughter all around while Ron and Hermione watched the interaction carefully. The easy talk was interrupted by an update from Sirius on a small tennis ball puff of an Owl. It nestled in Harry's hair affectionately before being transferred to Ron, as he was his gift to replace Scabbers. The letter also included a permission slip to go to Hogsmead, which wasn't really needed but it was appreciated. It would allow him to keep up the charade of dependance for a bit longer if he wanted to. After that, Ron was too pleased about the gift to remember to be tense around Harry and Hermione relaxed once she saw that the green eyed wizard didn't seem to mind. They were minutes away from Kingscross station when Harry made and announcement the group.

"I think that next year will be the time for me to stop hiding... for the most part. I'm giving you warning, like the others, so you can decide if you want me to keep up certain fronts."

"No worries, lad." George ruffled raven hair.

"We're with you always." Fred confirmed. They hugged him tightly, forcing him to squirm his way out of the embrace with a laugh.

Ginny crossed her arms with a pout once he could breath again. "Do you even need to ask? My wand was yours the moment you took a basilisk fang through the arm to save me."

"What!" Five astonished voices called out at once. Harry begged them off with a highly edited, watered down version of events, glaring mildly at a sheepish Ginny the whole time, after he showed them the scar. That ended when they reached the station and he was sent off with the usual round of hugs from the Weasleys. He quietly wove his way through the crowds towards a glowering Vernon.

He didn't speak as followed his uncle to an out of the way alcove near the parking garage, but he was ready for the almost lazy backhand that snapped the arm off his glasses. He heard the lenses shatter as they hit concrete but he could do nothing as a heavy fist landed just below his left rib. He struggled not to double over, refusing to even mimic bowing to the pig, so most of the damage was taken by his torso, at least one rib broken and three fractured. Vernon was puffing, having gained weight of the year, by the time the last fist to Harry's left cheek pushed the thirteen year old to the stone wall.

Satisfied, Vernon held him there by the collar of his ragged, overlarge shirt. "This is only the beginning you whore. You will be punished properly for what you did to Marge."

Harry held his breath against the rancid, cloying stench of alcohol on Vernon's breath. He could guess what would happen that night a started to a subtle spell that would help him avoid the inevitable for now.

"If anything even remotely abnormal happens this summer the consequences for yo will be dire. I promise you that." The pig spat, shaking Harry for effect. The large man backed off to deliver a final backhand, making Harry stagger and his ears ring. "Now hurry it up!"

Silent and stone-faced, Harry stumbled after the waddling monstrosity, covertly spitting blood to the side as he pulled his cart. They were in the car, driving away when a young figure stepped out of the frantic hiding spot he had found at the first blow.

The Hufflepuff picked up the shattered glasses in a daze, not quite sure as to what he had just witnessed. Cedric had followed Harry after seeing him separate from the Weasleys, intending to apologize for their match earlier that year. After he had read up on Dementors, and how they affect a persons, guilt had made him a coward, not wanting to do it in front of others. Harry, however, was never alone, sometimes surprising Cedric with how many houses had claim to Harry's time. Self hatred bloomed in the Diggory when he realized that his cowardice had reared up again, keeping from helping the young teen when his guardian was pounding on him. Logically he knew that he would likely have made things worse, that harry still had to go home with the muggle, but he should have tried to do something more than just watching helplessly. Briefly he thought of going to his father to try and get him out of that house but he knew that the press would have a field day and his dad was not one for keeping his mouth shut. Harry's past experience with the Daily Prophet would ensure that the spotlight would not be welcome. So far there was nothing at all he could do for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Cedric, did you find the fellow you were looking for?" Amos Diggory called, prompting Cedric to stuff the broken glasses into his pocket. Brief flash of glazed green eyes and a swelling cheek as he spit out the blood filling his mouth, nearly made the teen cry but he pulled himself together.

"No Dad, just missed him."

"Pity that." Amos tried to sympathize and failed. "I'm sure you'll have a chance in September."

"Yeah." he followed his father to the safe portkey area and slowly thought of his options. "Hey dad, do we have any books on law?"

"Of course!" he seemed pleased, "Deciding to follow in your Father's footsteps, are you? So many young wizards looking into law these days. Did you know that Harry Potter has dedicated and entire Manor to housing dangerous and exotic creatures for the use of Hogwarts CoMC teacher? All to properly educate students without endangering handlers or transporters. That was one of the main issues with regulating the creatures allowed in that class. Often it was simply too dangerous to bring them in but now they have safe spacious locations to thrive in that can be easily accessed. Simply marvellous." the elder Diggory gushed. Cedric tried desperately to try and reconcile the new information to the image of the bruised teenager.

"How could he afford it?"

"Well he's the Lord of the House of Potter, isn't he? He suddenly invoke the Protected Heirs Act a few months back. Claimed his lands and titles. Quietly, though, not one for press, that boy."

"If he's a Lord, why is he still living with muggles?"

Amos looked at his son, baffled at the accusing tone. "He may be a Lord but he still a minor. The muggles are still his guardians even if they have no rights to his wealth. They would need to emancipate him or Harry would have to be adopted into another family to get him out of the muggles care during the summer."

"Can any family adopt him?"

"Not likely!" Amos barked a laugh, startling the woman ahead of them in the portkey line. "He's famous and rich so the family would have to prove that their intentions were for his good and not their profit. They would have to at least match him in wealth. Since he's not a Pureblood himself, they don't have to be from a long line."

"Are there many families that fit the requirements?"

"Bloody hell no! I had to check his finances to be sure that he could provide for the animals he was taking in. The lad has inherited a large fortune that has been collecting interest in a number of sealed vaults for the last thirteen years. Not to mention the tithes from those living on his land and the business investments made by his mother, rest her soul. The boy is richer than any Pureblood by a large margin." Cedric sighed softly, vowing to look into the old adoption laws. Maybe he could even get Cho on the case.

"Why the interest in the boy, Ced?" his father's suspicion made the Hufflepuff flush awkwardly and a gleam entered the elders eye.

Panicked, Cedric fumbled for and explination. "It's just... we had a match...Quidditch...this year."

"Oh? Enjoy his skills on a broomstick did you?"

Pale cheeks flared another few shades of red, "No! Well yes, but not like you think! I-I beat him, that's all. Dementors came and he fell off his broom and I caught the snitch. That's it."

Cedric panted lightly, having said it all in a rush. Amos stared at his son in awe and the teenager suddenly felt he should have let his father believe is _was_ a crush. "You beat Harry Potter?"

The elder male was still crowing his delight when a red faced, mortified, Cedric finally managed to pull him onto the Portkey pad and sent them home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, violence, major abuse, mention of rape, sexual situations, underage sex, SLASH to the nth degree and complete bastardizing of two fantastic book series. Enjoy.  
> A/N: I don't know if this chapter will be as long as the last one but I'll keep going till I get to a good place to stop. Artistic integrity is a beautiful thing. Word of warning, the last two chapters were basically a lead up to the main story line. From this point on it will be more detailed and more events in both the Hp universe and Black jewel verse will occur.

Chapter 3:

Harry thanked what ever gods that were listening that he managed to avoid the impending violation from his uncle by subtly flushing out the alcohol in the pigs system while he drove. An upside to this was that Petunia would not turn away his fumbling advances but it also meant that when the beating began more hits would connect. It was when they made it home that Harry realized how angry Vernon was when it progressed from fists to the belt within a few minutes. Usually the belt came off for immediate infractions, such as accidental magic, so it coming into play now told Harry that his uncle must be making up for lost time since he escaped last summer.

In the end, the first day of vacation found Harry kneeling obediently in front of his shabby desk, head bowed and arms above to protect his head as he clutched the edge. The thick belt- Harry was always surprised it even fit the obese man -swished through the air, leaving welts with each hit. After so long he was used to this treatment and the belt left minimal scars that faded during his time at Hogwarts, so he just rode out the pain and waited for the tub of lard to get tired. He was not expecting heavy footsteps to jar him out of his forced numbness, even as they forewarned him of Dudley suddenly filling the doorway, blocking out the light in a parody of an eclipse.

“Dad.” that wheedling voice was filled with too much anticipation for Harry's liking. “That old thing doesn't do much does it? Raises the skin a bit, like a bad spanking.” Like the blundering idiot even knew what a spanking felt like. “I bet he won't forget it if you use this.” There was a shift in the light were Dudley passed something to his father

“And where did you get this?” the suspicion surprised Harry but not enough to miss the hesitation in Dudley, catching his lie.

“School. They're teaching riding and it worked good on the horses.” Harry's breath froze in his lungs. It didn't swish as Vernon swung the new toy, it whistled, cutting through the air. Harry strangled a scream desperately as it sliced the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh well done Dudders!” Harry had an almost hysterical urge to laugh a the ridiculous nickname but he concentrated on the thin trickle of blood that was circling around his ribs. He forced himself to relax, experience telling him that strikes to tense muscles would hurt even more. The next few hits forced out a gasp but even those caught behind his clenched teeth as the lines between old and new pain blurred. Frustrated from the loss of reaction, Vernon moved from slicing the original welts to breaking unmarked flesh up on the shoulders and arms, stopping just short of his elbows. One hit licked Harry's neck, forcing him to lower his head, pulling at the cuts below.

Disappointed at the lack of show, Dudley huffed his way downstairs to get his mother to make some snacks. Soon the hits came slower, striking lower and lighter as Vernon's bulk tired him out. Finally the strokes paused, the Pig's heavy breathing a testament to his efforts, but Harry didn't move, didn't twitch, knowing what was coming. Sure enough the weapon whistled shrilly, Vernon putting his remaining strength behind it, cracking down his back from his right shoulder to left lower back, overlapping what felt like all the other bloody lines. Harry couldn't stop the pained whimper that escaped, but Vernon's thundering steps drowned it out.

“You'd better clean up this mess by morning.” Vernon ordered a little breathlessly. Harry could see the bloody end of the riding crop on the floor, bowed under the weight as the Pig used it for balance. “I won't have you slacking on chores tomorrow because of your own mess.”

Harry said nothing, breathing through the pain. Vernon huffed and lumbered out of the room. The wizard didn't start trembling until the footsteps reached the main level. Slowly, oh so slowly, he let his arm fall, resting his forehead on the cool wood of his desk. Staring at his hands with blurred vision, he realized he had slivers from the strength of his grip on the furniture. He didn't care, at least not really, but picking them out gave him something to do while he accustomed himself to the pain paralysing him.

His hands clear of debris, he placed them flat on the floor, balancing, as he stretched his aching legs out, careful not to move his back too much. Shuffling gingerly he made his way to his bed, blood soaked knees marking his path. He knew it would take a miracle to pull himself up on to the bed so he dragged his threadbare blanket off its surface. One corner he tugged over his left side, the rest bunched under his head as a make shift pillow and thanked the Darkness that it was a warm night. All he wanted now was to dream.

**

As always, the transition was smooth, between one blink and the next. Harry found himself outside a familiar, if blurry house, a weak gurgle of hope sounding in his throat. He had noticed it before that he would appear in the place he desired most, and if he had no preference of destination in his dreams then he would show up in the area of the friends that wanted to see him the most. That was likely why the majority of his time was spent in only three places, with the unicorns, his brother and this little cottage. His every movement was agony but Harry forced himself to his feet, stumbling haltingly to the pine door. As disoriented as he felt, he was careful not to trample the well kept garden by avoiding the smudges of colour. The smooth wood of the door was a balm on his stinging palms but he wasn't sure he could actually knock like usual and the bruises he felt on his face probably made him unrecognizable. He would have to rely on her remembering his voice.

“Grandma?” the rasp in his voice surprised him, but he supposed holding in screams hurt almost as much as letting them out. Harry also knew that he shouldn't lean against the door like he was but his legs were just shaking so bad.

“Grandma.” he tried again louder, desperation lacing his voice. Ha had begun to heal already and any dirt or infection would be sealed over if he didn't get treatment soon. He almost dropped the blanket clinging to his blood coated skin when the door swung inward. He would have hit the floor if the firm, unfamiliar, distinctively male chest had not been there to catch himself on. He clung to the cloth of an obviously expensive waist coat as his non-swollen eye landed on the fuzzy tangle that could only be Tersa's hair.

“Grandma.” He sighed in relief, trying to get his legs under him.

“I assure you child,” a smooth, deep voice rumbled from the chest he was leaning against, “I have not, nor ever shall I be, a 'Grandma'.”

The Tersa Blur came forward. “Silly child came too early. The icy widow will be a few moments yet. Bring the boy to bed.”

Harry grit his teeth when the man lifted him bridal style, an arm pressing against the welts and making them bleed. “Icy Widow? That wouldn't happen to be Karla, would it?”

Harry was holding his barriers tightly shut so Tersa would not panic because of his pain but he could still feel the wary amusement from the male. Blocking the scent was harder to concentrate on but it gave him something to distract himself with.

“What connection does she have with this child?”

“Craft is always better to learn from a teacher. Right there now, rest him there.” she must have pointed because the man moved away from her voice, “Face down! Foolish male!”

The man, who had been lowering him, stilled in shock at the order. Harry was shifted, the pressure leaving his wounds, and was deposited gently, able to breath once again. He knew the moment the man realized the reasoning behind her order when concern and horror flooded the emotions in the room.

“Lady,” came the strained rasp, “My sleeve is covered in blood I can't smell.”

“Yes.” Tersa sounded so sad that Harry ignored the pain to reach out and comfort her. “The silly child tries to hide all that I have already seen.”

“Sorry.” he managed, ashamed, but he wouldn't drop the shields, not yet. The shattered Black Widow peeled away the blanket with care to survey the damage.

“Who did this?” The males voice had gone deceptively soft, making Harry tense, ready to lash out at any attempt to attack Tersa.

“A Pig with a Baby Whale's riding crop.” Tersa answered.

“What?” Harry snorted painfully at his bewildered tone and Tersa patted his hand sympathetically. The male sighed in exasperation, the hostility draining out of the room. “What is your name, child?”

Harry turned a bleary green eye to the tall dark blob that was the male, “Harry.”

The man shaped blob pulled closer, kneeling to his eye level, focusing into tanned skin, gold eyes and thick black hair that was greying at the temples. The fine details were still fuzzy but Harry could tell he was handsome.

“Harrison.” he answered reluctantly. The glare he was receiving lost its impact when he couldn't actually see it.

“Where is he?” Karla burst into the room. “There's blood on the floor again!” Harry could practically hear the silent 'Again?' from the now standing man.

“Kiss, kiss.” Harry mocked weakly from the bed. He could see the black seat she was in with the wheels below her arms, her First Escort behind her to push. He grinned at her happily, if painfully. “It worked! Can you propel it with Craft yet?”

“Not yet short-stuff.” Harry could tell she was surveying his wounds just from her tone of voice. “You ever going to tell me who does this?”

“Now Aunty Kay,” he tried to sound coy but fell a bit short, “that would be telling, wouldn't it?”

“Exactly.” she palpitated the deepest wounds gently. “If I heal this you'll fall into a healing sleep.”

“No!” he jerked back, popping open a few welts that had stopped bleeding, “I can't go back! Not yet! Just- just clean them. I heal quick enough.”

“They'll scar. Badly.” She warned.

He settled again with a low chuckle, thinking of all the marks that have faded over the years. None were as bad as this but it was just a reminder of how he had survived yet again. “What's a few more?” The unnatural silence that settled over the room reminded Harry that it wasn't just the women he trusted in attendance.

“Drop the shield.” Karla ordered in her queen voice. It never had much affect on Harry but she kept trying.

“But...” his gaze flicked to the men.

“They can handle it.” She assured.

“He can't.” He studied the grey and blue blob that stiffened.

“He's a Red Jewelled Warlord Prince, brat.”

“I know.” he buried his face in the pillow, sorry for the hurt he was causing the stranger.

“Karla-” the man was cut off.

“You should step out. You don't have to but you should.” the rare diplomacy from her made Harry twitch. “If he says you can't handle it then you probably can't.” It was a long moment before the door clicked shut behind the Prince. Karla shifted again.

“Do I nee to take down his pants.” the room chilled in a familiar sensation, emanating from the direction of the elder male in the room. Harry didn't answer and she had learned to never direct that question towards him. He would never answer.

“My smart boy kept the Pig at bay this time. He lost his eyes though.” Tersa stroked his wild mop of hair lovingly.

“I had noticed.” she called in her Healer's bag, getting set. “Now drop those shields.”

This time he obeyed, relaxing as he let go of his magic. The smell of blood wafted up with the psychic scent agony. Harry could feel the Red Jewelled Prince stumbling to the kitchen to up heave in the sink.

“Oh, Honey...” Karla trailed off, carefully cleaning him of blood.

“The Pig got a new toy.” he tried to explain vaguely, “I'm not used to it yet.”

“You should never have to get 'used to it'.” The male snarled, Karla echoing his anger by smearing his back with salve roughly.

“I do if I want to survive.” he shot back, not appreciating a stranger trying but into his situation.

“Survive for what, exactly?” he purred in an tone that was just a shade shy of mocking, “I can't imagine a reason to stay in such an environment.”

Incensed, and flushed with sudden adrenaline, Harry rolled to his feet, ignoring both the intense discomfort and Karla's indignant squawk. “You don't think I haven't tried to get away? I've told people, adults, over and over about what they do. I've run away before but they always send me back. I have no choice in this and no one can save me from this so I choose to endure. I will survive whatever they try and I will make myself stronger for it.” he could tell the man was watching him critically, and Tersa was holding Karla interfering, but he couldn't judge body or facial language, blind as he was. That left him at a sever disadvantage. The blood dripping down his back was irritating but his anger dulled the pain and cooled the room. “Two months a year is all I need to suffer through with them before I can escape via my schooling. In four years I graduate and never set foot in that house again. So I choose to endure.”

The man stalked forward, his fluid stride something Harry would have envied if he could see it, and his anger dimmed as he came into partial focus again. The man gripped his chin and stroked the bruised cheek tenderly. “Is no one willing to take you away?”

The rest of his anger was swept away by despair. “If there was, they couldn't. Old laws prevent it and a highly respected man wishes for me to stay in that house. Most won't question him and the one that do would rather see me killed.”

Harry was facing away from the women so he did not witness Karla's blatant gaping or Tersa's beaming smile. For over a year Karla had been fishing for information from Harry only to get little tidbits that meant nothing. Now the male simply swooped in and the boy was spilling everything within moments. It was only a moment before Karla remembered exactly who Harry was talking to, and how many damaged children the man had been dealing with over the centuries.

“My family is not one to scare easily.” the man's hand had begun carding through thick tufts of wild hair, relaxing the teen.

Hope was born only to die in the same instant. “I don't know how I get here, to this world. I doubt you can get to mine.” The hand stopped moving and the teen broke away to turn back to the waiting witches. The rest of the healing took place in silence with Harry perched on the edge of the bed.

“How long do you have, brat?” Karla asked quietly, vanishing her bag once she finished.

“A few hours, but I wanted to finish that thing.”

“That 'thing'? That secret 'thing' that you are doing with Tersa? That 'thing'?” the Glacian Queen teased.

“Yes.” he smirked, “That 'thing'.”

“I must go. I need to speak with my children.” the man excused himself abruptly. “I will see you again next week, Tersa.”

He bowed slightly to the women and swept out of the door before Harry could get a word out. That chance gone, he turned to the witches. “What's his name?”

Karla started to answer but Tersa overrode her, “Just call him Grandpa, child.”

“I-I-I couldn't do that!” he stuttered, “I don't even know the man!”

“Well if you call Tersa 'Grandma' then it stands to reason you would call him 'Grandpa'.” Karla joined in the teasing. “One of those children he is going go see it their son.”

Harry gaped at her dumbly, sending her into a fit of giggles as she wheeled out of the room. When he came back to himself Grandma Tersa had set up the waiting web in front of him, pressing a spool of thread into his hand.

“You have a son?”

“My boy grew up long ago.” she smiled painfully, “I was never able to be good mother to him but he never seemed to mind.”

Feeling to brittle to traverse the minefields of her mind to get answers, Harry let the matter drop as he got to work. Tersa watched him carefully, like Luna had all those months ago, as each thread was carefully woven into the evolving web. Half of the patten was planned, precise lines that came straight from his mind, the other half was instinctual adaptations that formed a beautiful master piece that would work the miracle he had been planning for over a year. That day he was putting the final touches, save one piece. It took three hours of stillness, the only movement coming from his hands as they lay down thread ofter thread, which let his back heal without complications.

“You must dance with her once she is ready.” Tersa spoke up once he straightened out, arching his stiff back.

“I don't dance, Grandma. She'll be better off with her escort.” Tersa shook her tangled head but went to collect the bored Queen while Harry packed up.

“So have you finally finished?” her escort wheeled her in, “How did you do with not being able to see?”

Harry shrugged, “I finished. I usually do it by feel rather than sight when it is not a foretelling web.”

“So this is a healing web.” She eyed him shrewdly.

He nodded and pressed the covered web into her lap. Tersa passed the bag of clinking potions to the Red Jewelled Prince. “I want you to take this to the best Healer you know. The very best, that is important, and she has to be strong, at least a Grey but a darker jewel would be better.”

“Why don't I look at it myself?”

“Because I said so.” he managed to give her a firm look with only one working eye. “Just do this and the healer will be able to explain everything. I would do it myself but I could not stay long enough for it to work.”

“And this stuff?” the Escort held up the sack.

“They are meant to augment the web so keep them together.”

Vanishing both, Karla perked up again, “Well I know just the woman. Why don’t you come with me? You would love her, I promise.”

Meeting someone new was always interesting but not when he looked as he did right then. “I wish I could but I have to wake up. If I don't clean up the blood before dawn you might have to heal me again tonight.”

His light joking tone fell flat, mainly because it was true.

“You had better be healthy when I see you next, Runt.” The crippled witch warned.

“I'll try Aunty Kay.” He kissed her cheek lightly and hugged Tersa during her disjointed goodbyes. She always slipped further into the Twisted Kingdom whenever he left.

He rolled to his knees as he woke in his room, thankful that the only light was from the moon. He silently collected the cleaning supplies from the bathroom and set to work, contemplating his new Grandpa and wondering what the man would do when he called him that the first time. That is, if he ever saw him again.

Hours later, Harry finished his work and the earth shattering snores of his relatives quieted down, signalling the start of another long, painful day at the Dursley home.

**

Karla was wheeled into a guest bedroom in SaDiablo Hall by Deamon while she and Janelle chatted. Though married for so many years, the two still hadn't been able to conceive a child, but the hope never died between them. It was one of the reasons why Karla had been so stunned when she had seen Harry for the first time. The strong jaw, strait nose, sweeping brows and inky black hair, had all been recognizable in the male but the high cheekbones, full lips and jewel like eyes had marked him with the female features now staring at her. They were sapphires instead of emeralds but the eyes were still the same.

“So what have you brought me?” Her old friend bounced on the bed.

“A request, actually,” she called in the objects, “from a student of mine, for a Healer, darker than Grey, to look over this web and see if she would be able to carry it out. Of course I immediately thought of you.”

Janelle cast her an amused, if sceptical, look as she carefully unpacked the bag first, carefully laying out the vials filled with oddly shimmering liquid. Then she moved on the the Web. Summer-sky eyes widened as she read the note that had been slipped into the bag of vials.

“A student?” her midnight voice whispered, eyes not leaving the parchment.

Karla nodded anyways, “A natural Healer, and if I am not mistaken, a Black Widow as well.”

“A Queen?” Deamon was reading over his wife's shoulder, dark eyebrows rising.

The Glacia Queen hesitated, “I don't know.” Two sets of eyes snapped to her.

“You don't... know?” Daemon asked carefully, “I would think that one such as you would, at the least, be able to recognize a Queen.”

“Yes, well he doesn't feel like a Queen but he is certainly more than a Warlord Prince.” She truly enjoyed creating the slack-jawed expression on the face of her friends. Now, however, it was time to divert their attention. “I can't explain it but you can ask Uncle Seatan. They met today.”

She only felt a little vindictive when the call went out on the Black, echoing into the lighter Jewels. A little payback for swooping in and breaking down barriers that she had been battering for months. Seatan strode into the room quicker than expected, so he must have already been on his way. Lucivar and Deamonar were hot on his heels, eager to find out what was happening.

“You rang?” the patriarch drawled.

“Lady Karla said you met an interesting Prince today.” Deamon drawled right back, handing the letter over. “A talented Healer, and likely Black Widow, whom feels like something more than a Warlord Prince.”

“Hmm.” Seatan was too engrossed in the letter to hear him. He read it twice before turning to Karla. “That child did this?”

She nodded, “Finished the web today, just after you left.”

“Today?” He choked, surprising his family, “In that condition?”

“Could you have stopped him?” She snarled at the High Lord, not liking the accusation in his tone.

“No,” Seatan sighed, sinking into a soft chair with a drawn expression and she immediately felt guilty for snapping, “I suppose not.”

“Wait a moment,” Deamonar interrupted before the adults could start again, “what condition?”

“Deamonar?” Lucivar approached his fourteen year old son in confusion.

The young Eryien ignored him to glare, surprisingly, at his grandfather. “You're talking about Harry, right? What was his condition?”

“You know the boy?” Deamon ask his nephew but jerked in surprise as that glare fell on him. His little Red Jewelled nephew was acting like a Warlord Prince being kept from protecting his Queen. He exchanged wondering looks with his brother, seeing as both women were just as shocked about the change.

“He was injured,” Saetan answered, golden eyes studying his grandson, “badly enough to need a healing sleep, though he refused.”

“How?” Daemonar's voice had lowered in anger, hinting to the depth he would have once he reached manhood.

Karla was the one to answer this time, recognizing the same need to protect within Daemonar that Harry seemed to instil into everyone he met. “A riding crop, a belt and fists. The strength of the blows with the crop sliced open his back badly.” They were startled when Daemonar's mood rose sharply to the killing edge, his Birthright Red thrumming with his rage.

“That bastard is mine to kill.” he staked his claim to the room.

“Harry?” Lucivar asked, still not quite sure as to what was going on.

“No. His Uncle.” all the breath in the room hushed, waiting for him to continue, not that the young man riding the killing edge noticed, “That fat bastard has been beating him since before I met Harry when we were three. He just kept showing up with fresh bruises or cuts whenever he came to play, or train.”

Saetan and Daemon both turned to Lucivar, the question clear in their eyes. The winged man shrugged helplessly, wondering just what else he did not know about his son.

“-and he started limping badly around the age of ten but it was rare enough that I didn’t understand until Dad explained how a Witch gets broken.”

“That’s why you asked?” Lucivar was horrified.

The young Warlord nodded. “I was worried that he would end up like grandma Tersa. You said men don’t break the same but I was still worried.”

“Understandably so.” Saetan murmured soothingly, pulling the Eryien child into his lap to brush away tears that the boy hadn’t realized he had been shedding. The soft, familiar touch pulled him away from the jagged edge of rage, settling his emotions into a manageable thob of hurt. Saetan continued once the danger had passed, “Before coming home, I paid a visit to  Geoffrey, looking for any information on how to get Harrison away from his relatives. I found that Geoffrey had already looked, has been looking since Draca introduced him to the young man years ago. There is little that we can do seeing as we cannot find him within the three realms. Do you know how to reach him?”

Daemonar shook his head in the negative. “I’ve tried, but he is not anywhere that I know of or can access. When he leaves he just... fades. It has nothing to do with the winds.”

“Papa,” Jaenelle silenced the rest of the questions burning their tongues, “what is this all about?”

Saetan took a moment to carefully plan his answer. “It is like it was when you were young, Witch-child.” She smiled at the rarely used moniker, “He is appearing and befriending all manor of of Blood without truly announcing his presence until now. He is trapped with relatives he unable to escape, with another source striving to control him. At the same time he is so much more than what we can understand, much like how you are Witch.”

Sapphire eyes assessed him, “So you would bring him into the family as you did me?”

“I doubt that.” Karla’s mouth ran before she realized, but she went with the attention anyways, “Harry is not the child of his soul like you are. You will understand when you meet him. In a few weeks we have another lesson planned and I had planned to bring him to the Hall, if he is healthy enough.”

“I would be willing to give him lessons in Protocol.” Saetan offered her an excuse.

“Perfect.” She flashed him a toothy smile, “Now is anyone going to tell me what his Healing Web is for?”

Jaenelle actually managed to look abashed at forgetting. “It is for you,” she explained, “To heal your legs completely. The potions are meant to bring nutrients to your muscles and regenerate the bones with the webs guide the healing. It will take hours, but it will remake the muscles and blood vessels while this potion-” she pointed to a shorter bottle that the rest that held a white paste, “-will draw out any remaining toxins through your skin. The need for strength is important because it will take equal power from both of us to achieve the results he wants. He even left a piece unfinished where i can mount a Jewel.”

“Mother Night,” Karla breathed, delicate hands gripping her withered legs. She had long accepted that she would never walk again. Never dance again. Never have children... “Will it work?”

Her Queen smiled sadly. “You should have more faith in your student. he even sent me samples of each potion for me to test.” She nodded to the doubles of the vials that were set off to the side.

“When would you like to do this?” the Glacian queen tried to calm herself. It would not do to rush things if they were sure to work.

“If you don’t mind the gawkers, now would be a good time.”

Karla snorted indelicately, “Give the boyo’s a show, I want my legs back.” She held up her arms to Daemon expectantly and he, with Lucivar’s help, settled her in the bed. Jaenelle set to work, weaving in one of her remaining Black jewels. As instructed, Karla downed the first foul tasting potion while Daemon smeared the white paste from her toes to her hips, careful with her modesty and impersonal enough in his touch. Only in this family could she fully trust the men to do this. Saetan was explaining what was happening to both Eyriens, unsurprised when Beale showed up with a tray of towels and water in a bowl. A decanter of drinking water appeared on the side table for Jaenelle. Karla downed the second vial as Witch settled beside her.

“Relax now.” came the midnight voice in soothing tones, and then she began to sing. the haunting melody of Witchsong threaded through the silence as Karla drowsed under the effects of the potions. A small, irritating itch started at her hip bones, but her limbs felt too heavy to attempt scratching. She would have voiced a concern but she couldn’t quite remember how to express her thoughts.

The itch crept down her legs, oh so slowly, gripping all he wavering focus. She lost her sense of time as the itch reached her knees and a bone deep ache started at her hips, following the same line as the itch. When the maddening itch reached her toes it blessedly disappeared only to signal the start of a slow burn under her skin, again flowing from the hip down her legs, the ache preceding. The cool, wet cloth that wiped carefully at her limbs, did nothing to ease the fire even as it chilled her flesh. She wondered, as much as she could in her foggy agonized state, if the scars from where she had been cut, to drain the poisons, would look terrible. She might have to invest in leggings, or stockings when she wore the rare dress or skirt. Then again she might just display her survival with pride. Harry never hid his scars when he had a choice. he may never speak of them but he was never ashamed.

Her back arched sharply as the slow burn turned into a blazing inferno that engulfed her lower half. It lasted moment that stretched into an eternity, driving her to seek the comfort of her Grey Jewels. Her descent was erratic and wild, later she would realise that she could have broken herself if a barrier of familiar Black power had not buffered her. Letting herself so go, Karla let herself bask in the comforting embrace as a different kind of darkness dragged her into unconsciousness.

* * *

When she woke again it was to the soft light of dawn spilling through the sheer cream drapes and into the room, illuminating the young Eyrien Warlord Prince that was keeping vigil by her bedside. Karla had never seen Daemonar sit still for so long, but the silent intensity he radiated as he watched her hinted to the patient warrior that he would grow to become. As soon as she let her body stir he was at her side with a glass of water ready. She levered herself up to a seated position with shaky limbs, and drank gratefully, letting him fuss with the pillows and blankets, barely hiding her amusement. Already his instincts were turning him into the same type of Prince as his father and uncle.

“Was he raped?” The question almost made her choke on the water.

“No.” What he asked didn’t surprise her so much as the resigned desperation in his face. “Not this time.” She amended softly. Some unseen tension flowed from the Eyrien Prince and she had to wonder how many times the boy patched up the younger teen himself.

“When will you make your Offering?” She asked quietly, breaking his relieved daze.

“Soon. This year.”

“So early? You have two years, at least.”

Daemonar shook his head, “Grandma Tersa said that something is coming and all my strength will be needed. I feel like I am ready now but Draca says to wait and let my feeling become certainty.”

“Good advice,” she nodded, “Descending early could limit your power.”

“And I’d have to whup your behind if you tired.” Lucivar grinned from the doorway, arms folded and leaning against the doorway. “Let’s not think about that your mother would do to the both of us either.” The younger Eyrien shuddered dramatically, while the older smirked. Their attention turned to her, “How are you today, Lady.”

“I’ll be better when I know what day it is.” She frowned as she tried to think on how long she had slept.

“You’ve been in a healing sleep for two days.” Daemonar supplied, “The Healing itself took a day and a half.”

“No wonder the brat couldn’t do it himself.” she mused, Daemonar nodding in agreement.

“Why not?” Lucivar asked his son, realizing that ‘the brat’ could only be one person.

“He can only stay, at the most, eight hours at any given time. Less if it is the summer months. He would never be able to finish a full Healing like that.”

The sadness underlying the words worried Lucivar and he felt a change of subject was in order. “How about the next time he shows up, you bring him to me and we see just how well you taught him to fight.”

Daemonar perked up immediately, “Oh, he is good, Dad. Not as good as me but he picks it up fast in the time he has, and he really wants to learn.”

Lucivar was interested now, “Why’s that?”

“He has these people trying to kill him all the time and he is hoping that he can fend off his relatives soon, but the pig is wider that the three of us put together. Most tactics I know wouldn’t work against a guy like him.”

Training exercises and fighting styles filtered through his mind, making Lucivar’s eyes glaze with the growing possibilities for the boy. Both boys, actually. “You bring him to me and we will get him set in a regime that will get hi as close to an Eyrien as he can be.”

“Well that’s all well and good for the runt,” Karla interrupted, “But will one of you get my chair so that i can get fed?” Two identical grins fell on her, much to her confusion.

“Sweetheart,” Lucivar crooned, “What makes you think you need it anymore?” That was when she saw what he had been carrying in his hands. A delicate cherry wood cane, hand carved and smoother to a lustrous shine. The head was curved into a flat silver handle that was etched with dainty and detailed snowflakes. On the cuff, holding the wood and metal together, was an empty setting, a perfect place for one of her Jewels.

With wide, disbelieving eyes, she threw back her covers, heaping a good number on top of Daemonar, and stared at the pale but full appendages. She hiked up her nightgown almost obscenely high, and poked at her thighs experimentally. Firm muscles met her fingertips and tears slipped free as she came to the realization that this was real. Her legs were terribly thin and ached badly when she swung around to the edge of her be, but they moved when she wanted them to. Slowly running her hand up and down each limb, Karla felt the slightly sunken and glossy skin of the scars that were nearly invisible on the pale skin. They would show once she regained a bit of colour, but she smirked as she got the sudden urge to go and purchase as many short leggings and skirts as she could fit in her wardrobe.

She tested first one leg, then the other before gingerly slipping off the bed completely. the nightgown fluttered back down to her shins as she stumbled into a waiting Lucivar. She couldn’t stop the laughter of pure delight that burst from her. she was on her feet, her feet for the first time in nearly twelve years. Pushing away from the winged male, she snatched up the beautiful cane and set a determined, if a bit wobbly, course to the bathroom.

“Excuse me boys, but I have a bath to take. Kiss, kiss.” Her ringing laughter through the closed door was wonderfully infectious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am in need of a Beta and someone who will bug me into typing more chapters for my various stories (and possibly someone to bounce ideas off of). If anyone is interested then please PM me.

     Harry watched the shadows of the small park on Magnolia Crescent carefully. He tried not to aggravate his wounds too badly by sitting on the lone picnic table by the swing set, but he felt incredibly exposed. The unease he felt by being near blind without his glasses was making him fidget, though he had thought to bring the sturdy tree branch that now rested at his side, along as a weapon, just in case.  
     Dudley’s little intervention with the riding crop had opened Vernon’s eyes to a whole new world of pain for Harry. Harry himself has a few fleeting moments of amusement, imagining the fat pig waddling into a BDSM sex shop and asking for a Dominatrix’ starter kit. Then the flogger had hit. Harry just prayed that Vernon’s personal shame and self disgust would keep him away from exploring the sexual aspect of his new hobby.  
     A rustle of grass made Harry tense severely until a breeze brought the familiar scent of potions, and he heard the tell-tale swoop of a cloak. Only one person could make a cloak billow so distinctively.  
     “Professor.” He greeted without turning.  
     “Potter,” Snape drawled, slightly off balance, “Do you think that twig would protect you if I had been a Death Eater set on attacking you?”  
     Harry didn't answer verbally, instead he gripped the unevenly weighted branch by its lighter end and twisted abruptly. Snape danced back out of the range of the blow, bewildered and angry, and drew his wand. Harry rolled over the table, keeping low so the disarming spell went harmlessly over his head. When his trainers hit the ground he dashed in under Snape's guard and swung again, using the heavier end of the branch to give the hit momentum, if not strength, as it jarred the man’s arm into dropping his wand. He caught the falling blur and pivoted on his toes until he face the grown man again, his own wand in one of Harry’s hands and the ‘twig’ in the other. He flipped the wand over, handle out, offering it back to Snape, and settled the branch in the table again.  
     “Point taken.” Severus conceded, grudgingly, joining Harry on the bench.  
     Harry sat as gingerly as he could without Snape taking notice, a flare of pain letting him know that he had torn open a few welts with his little show. “Most wizards don’t know how to react to a physical attack,” Harry explained. “Duelling comes close but a head on rush is rare.”  
     Harry could feel Snape’s eyes roving over him carefully and strove to still his nervous twitching, ignoring the growing agony on his back.  
     “Where are you glasses, Potter?” the question was mild but Harry had not expected it, his paranoid mind telling him that the bloodstain darkening the back of his shirt was more obvious. It was due to the surprise and the growing pain that his answer was lacking his usual evasive skills.  
     “Er... they broke at Kingscross.”  
     “How did they break?”  
     Harry knew that he twitched but he couldn't stop it in time. “I tripped,” He cursed himself mentally as the pathetic excuse left his lips, and then they just kept flapping, “and they fell off. Broke on the concrete.”  
     “Were you not provided with replacements?” Snape had gained a smoothness to his voice, one that soothed and set you on edge in the same instant.  
     “Specs are expensive. I haven’t gotten around to buying myself a new set yet.”  
     Snape’s tone slid into something just a tad bit darker, causing Harry to fight a shiver. “If you have the remains of the last pair I could repair them for you.”  
     Harry flinched this time, twice when his back screamed in protest. “I lost them. Left them where they fell.”  
     “Indeed.” His glare was piercing, even in the blurry darkness, “and the rapidly increasing smell of blood was from just another accident as we?”  
     Harry didn't answer, refused to answer. He should have remember to set up an illusion for the meeting, but the constant pain was fogging his brain to the point of distraction. Even during his dreams.  
     “You swore to explain everything you have been hiding, and I intend to hold you to your oath.” Snape was unrelenting, the body language that Harry could barely see told him as much. Inwardly he cursed himself for his honour and the words he spoke when he was too rushed to worry about wording. His natural stubbornness flared briefly as he decided that if the man wanted to know anything, then he would have to be distinct when asking his questions.  
     “Where do you want to start?”  
     “Your glasses.”  
     Harry nodded, having expected this at least. “Vernon backhanded me at the station. It knocked them off and i didn’t have time to pick them up.”  
     “How long has this been going on?” His voice was a little quieter but more intense for it.  
     “How long since they have been hitting me? Or how long since i knew it was not normal?”  
     Snape said nothing for a long moment. “Do you require healing?” He asked instead.  
     Harry hesitated, “I can’t.”  
     “I beg your pardon?”  
     “If I heal too fast then the Pig will know something ‘abnormal’ has happened and the next time it will be worse.”  
     “And beating a child is considered ‘normal’?” Snape snarled.  
     Harry sighed heavily, staring out into the dark trees behind the park. “I realized years ago that ‘abnormal’ was just an excuse for Vernon. Petunia hates magic and has twisted the idea of it into something evil. Vernon on the other hand...”  
     “What has he done?”  
     Harry frowned as his back twinged in pain and the fog in his head crept along the edges of his consciousness. “Fist and his belt mostly. Dudley started him on a riding crop last week and now he has started to progress.”  
     “Towards?”  
     He did not want to say the words but they flowed from his mouth without his say-so. “He used a flogger tonight.”  
     “Where did a muggle get such a thing?”  
     Harry cringed at the obvious direction that the conversation was going in, but he had started it and Snape wouldn't let him stop now. “A Sex shop.”  
     The silence was ominous.  
     “Potter?” His tone was quieter now, more careful, “Harry? Has he ever...” He tried again but even the feared Potions master could not even finish the sentence. It was this fact, that the man couldn't even choke the words out, more that the act itself that brought a teary sheen to his green eyes.  
     “Not... not often.” he forced out through his suddenly tight throat.  
     Severus exploded.  
     Scathing curses spilled from his lips, some Harry stored away for future use, as he sprung from his seat to pace the length between the sandbox and swings. harry watched the stalking blur until he got himself under control.  
     “You can’t touch them, sir.” That stopped him in his tracks.  
     “Why the bloody hell not?” he hissed.  
     “How would you explain it to Dumbledore? Or Voldemort? You are supposed to hate me and rushing to protect my honor will not help that image.”  
     “Your ‘honor’?This has nothing to do with your honor. You can not possibly think that I would leave you to be irrevocably damaged by those scum.”  
     Green eyes hardened into flat jade, forcing any further words to retreat back down Severus’ throat. “Do I look damaged to you?”  
     “Yes.” he answered unrepentantly.  
     “Emotionally or mentally damaged?” he clarified.  
     “No.” came more reluctantly.  
     “The first time was when he stumbled home drunk while I was waxing the Kitchen floor.” Snape really did not want to hear this, Harry could tell, but he had wanted to know ‘everything’ and the anger and pain had fogged up Harry’s usual filter. “I had to wax at night, you see, so as not to get in the way during the day. Vernon had gone upstairs to be with Petunia but she had turned him away. He gets violent when he’s drunk. That was also the first time he took me to a doctor, paying the man for his silence, of course. I had been torn up inside and then beaten for ‘seducing’ him when he was vulnerable. That was three weeks before my tenth birthday.”  
     Snape sunk down onto the bench beside Harry and the teen could see his trembling. It was the sight of that strong, steady male losing his composure in such a base way, that softened his tone from the hollow monotone that had described one of the worst nights of his life. “I've survived this long, and I don’t even spend the full summers with them any longer. I have even figured out how to sober Vernon up if i have enough warning so that his self-disgust keeps him away from me.”  
     Severus just stared at him. Harry sighed and admitted something that he had forced himself not to think about too often, “One thing that the Dursley’s seem to forget is that my magic is only restricted until I reach seventeen.” Harry was unaware of it, but as he spoke the lines of his face hardened in the pale moonlight into an expression that was both beautiful in it masculinity but also edged with danger. The Potions master’s breath caught lightly as he realized exactly what could have tempted Vernon Dursley. “The moment midnight passes on my seventeenth day of birth, they will come to understand exactly why Dumbledore wants to control me.”  
     The harsh promise in these words caused a shiver to crawl up Severus’ spine. It reminded him of the reason he had joined the Dark Lord while he was searching for a Dark power that had always called to him. All he had found was a twisted insanity that dug its claws into his soul and had yet to let go. This, however, was something darker, something pure, and that Harry didn't even seem to be aware of. It terrified Snape that he had almost missed it simply because of an old grudge against a dead man.  
     “How is he controlling you?” he asked, moving away from the previous, more volatile subject. Internally he swore to find a way to get Harry out of that house but that was an issue for another day.  
     “Away from number four, at a good distance, and in Hogwarts, I can do a fair bit of magic without a wand. Within about 30 yards, however, I can barely to a basic lumos. I have studied the ward from the outside the barrier and, to me, it looks like it is meant to suppress any of my intentional magic. It was tied to the Blood Wards so it will likely dissolve with the restrictions on my birthday.”  
     “It would not do to have you realize that you are being restrained I suppose.” He said wryly.  
     “Too bad I was already wise to some of his machinations.” Harry agreed, “So what do you want to know now?”  
     Severus thought hard on that for a moment, “That Web you spoke of before. Where did you learn to do that?”  
     Harry sighed quietly, “Straight to the hard questions as always. To explain that I have to tell you something that you probably will not believe.”  
     “I have seen a great many things, Potter.” The older male was silenced with a look that was surprisingly effective for being unfocused. Snape was thinking up a solution to that little problem as well.  
     “For as long as I can remember I have dreamed, but not like other people...” He explained it slowly, disjointedly, the same way that his foggy mind remembered it at the moment. He left out a good number of details, like names, but he told of the kindred and the people of the three realms. Then he moved on to the lessons he had been given. The hunting, survival and riding lessons front the kindred. The knife and dagger forms from the Dea al Mon. He also, reluctantly, told of the teachings of the spiders and their webs, though he left out the fact that he was a Black Widow. Then he explained Craft, or at least what he knew of it. Most of what he knew was instinctual knowledge that he accessed when Aunty Kay explained or demonstrated a bit of the art. Then there was the stuff he thought up on his own, like the potion/healing web mix. Through it all, Snape was a silent, avid listener, especially when Harry explained his magic and how his wand was practically a decoration at this point.  
     When he finished, he was made to promise a demonstration of some of his new-found skills once he reached Hogwarts. At that point the restrictions and tracking charms would have to be removed unless Dumbledore wanted Harry to know that he was being bound. In the end, Harry was just surprised that Severus had listened to him at all.  
     “Have you found any way to this world of yours out of your dreams?” Snape was genuinely intrigued with the thought of a separate culture, much like the Wizarding world, that was just out of reach.  
     “Not yet.” Harry slumped a little in his dejection. “I've been looking into it for years but all references to dreams and such are a part of Divination.”  
     “Have you looked into parallel realities?” Wide green eyes turned to stare at him, “A Muggle concept, I know, but Lily once thought it was a wonderful idea. She would try to think of ways to to split our reality to create a safer, more hidden world for all of the Wizarding community.” Harry had to shake himself as he stared at his usually stern potions professor. That sallow, foreboding face had lit up at the first mention of Lily, so much so that even half blind Harry could see it.  
     He found his voice quickly enough though, “One where there would be no fear of discovery but still accessible to magical children,”  
     “Precisely. Perhaps it has already been achieved and you have been crossing the divide unknowingly.”  
     “The Killing Curse.” Harry breathed, a devious idea forming.  
     “Potter?”  
     “I read up on the curse in my first year. Essentially it cuts a persons spiritual, physical and magical connection to this plain of existence. That’s for normal magic users and those without.” He explained hurriedly. “My magic, however, is different. and couldn't be severed. Likely it protected my physical connection as that was the weakest part of the triangle, and that could be why it rebounded. However, the curse still worked. It cut Voldemort’s physical connection, which is what rebounded.”  
     “He became a spectre.” The potions professor realized, “An embodiment of the spirit and magic of the man.”  
     “Correct, and since my magic was protecting one aspect, the other was vulnerable and severed. My soul is no longer anchored to this world so when I sleep my soul wanders to the world that houses a magic that is similar to my own. Why didn't I think of this before?”  
     Snape scoffed. “Because you only hold the experience of a thirteen year old child, no matter how varied your adventures.” the snarky, bordering on insulting, words warmed the teen.  
     ‘What I don’t understand is why the curse connected me to Voldemort through my scar?”  
     Snape brushed aside Harry’s fringe to study the blemish, noting the puffiness of the flesh around the cut. “Possibly your magic adjusted the remnants of his magic as a warning system. It does make you aware of his presence.”  
     And it will eventually connect our minds with visions.” Harry rubbed his temples in frustration. He really didn't want those visions to come. “A few this year and more in the next when Voldemort realizes that he can manipulate what I see”  
     “Perhaps you should learn Occlumency?”  
     “Legillimency would be better but Dumbledore will make you teach me in my fifth year. Only, forcing your way into my will just leave my psych more open instead of triggering a defence.”  
     Severus frowned, “There are two ways to learn to defend your mind. Yes, the forceful way is one such method that is useful for headstrong, reactive fighters. You, however, would better suit the method of building traps and labyrinths through meditation. If you become adept enough it can be triggered by any unnatural invasion into your mind, whether you realize it consciously or not.”  
     “Well the old goat probably will convince you otherwise, and in that timeline you didn't really know me.”  
     “True.” the older man cast a tempus charm, noting the early hour. “I assume that you have a plan of action?” Harry nodded, “And my place in it would be?”  
     Without needing a moments thought he said, “First of all, if you are a part of the of the attack that is coming during the World Cup, find another engagement that you can not get out of. I will be there and I don’t intend to let those cowards torture Muggles and wizards haphazardly.”  
     “You won’t have magic to protect yourself with!” Severus hissed in concern.  
     “Did I need it tonight?” The potions master subsided, very reluctantly. “During the year I would like you to subtly make it clear to those in your House that your first concern will always be your snakes, above all else.”  
     “And if any realize my concern for you?”  
     Harry couldn't quite stifle his smile. “I had the Hat put me in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin because it was more advantageous to my plans.” he confessed. He didn't think he would ever see Snape’s eyes go that wide ever again, not that he could really see it now.  
     “A snake in the lions den.” he breathed, amusement clear in his tone.  
     “You could look at it that way, i suppose. I have just never understood the point of the segregation within Hogwarts. So many children are getting pushed into an image that they think they should fit just because of their House. For example, did you know that Neville is a certifiable savant when it comes to plants in any shape or form?” Snape shook his head, his brow creased in a frown. “If you took him aside and explained the ingredients, as most are plants of some sort, and explained why they react the way they do then he might rival you in skill within a few years. He always what ingredients are too old or too dried and have lost their potency. If he had been anything but Griffindor, i know you would have capitalized on that talent, but all that teachers seem to have a blinders on when it comes to opposing houses. Theodore Nott is a possible candidate to achieve an animagus form within a year or so, but he is unaware because McGonagall disregards his top marks as study rather than the talent it is”  
     “It is the same in every House?” Harry bobbed his head tiredly.  
     “And it continues on after we leave school, only it shifts to blood status. Most Muggleborns return to Muggle lives, struggling to catch up to the mundane level of education and finding a way to support themselves without magic. Halfbloods and the poorer Purebloods are relegated to middle class, lower class citizenship within the community and in even worse straits outside of it. Only those from money or blood have a chance unless they are sponsored by one with money or have some incredible talent that can’t be overlooked.”  
     Snape wondered at the deep sorrow he felt flowing off the teen as he mourned the ignorance of the populace. As much as he wanted to continue along this vein, and they would one day soon, they had diverged from their original conversation. “I will watch out for my snakes. You are offering protection?”  
     “Asylum and protection for those unwilling to submit to certain... influences. Pending a verification from yourself of course.”  
     “Of course. Anything else?”  
     “Training. Personal or not, at your discretion, but I need access to defensive and offensive magic that I don’t have at the moment.”  
     The professor’s nod was considering, “I will send you materials and consider lessons in the school year.”  
     They stood together, “Thank you for coming Professor, and for... listening.” Harry said bashfully.  
     Snape gave him a curt nod while he turned away. “I believe, Harry, that in private you may call me Severus.”  
     Harry stared at the retreating back of the Potions Master with a small smile. “Sleep well Severus.”  
     Snape would never admit it but that smooth resonating sound, a prelude of the voice to come, saying his name was like a dark caress to his very soul.

  
***

  
     Harry sat on his bed watching the clock ticked closer to midnight as he waited with his window open. He had already sent Hedwig off with Neville’s birthday present, a custom wand made of willow wood with a Dryad Root core soaked in Neville’s blood. It was made for and reflected the gardener to a ‘T’. Since it was a gift from a Lord of higher station, his grandmother could not make him refuse it either.  
     He was waiting, like every year since turning eleven, because he did not want to be pulled from his dreams by the influx of owls. This year was special, however, because the Dursleys had gone on a long weekend trip to somewhere he did not care enough about to remember. What he did know was that they were gone for four days. They had left him a list of chores to do and threats if anything was off when they returned. He had finished everything by the end of the second day and was now waiting for the third, his birthday, in which he intended to sleep until the fourth, which was when he would check over the house to make sure things were perfect. He had a lesson planned with Aunty Kay, surprisingly within the Keep, so he could visit Draca. He was also hoping to see Daemonar, but the last time he had seen him the Eyrien had introduced him to his drill sergeant of a father. Harry was following the exercise regime given to him to the letter but the man was brutal. Harry didn’t think he would survive it if the man thought that he had been slacking. There had been a marked improvement in his physique though.  
     His clock chimed softly, barely overheard over the flap of wings as birds swooped in his window. Harry had food and water prepared for the birds, which they were grateful for once he freed them of their burdens. Stacking the gifts on his bed he sorted out his usual fare. The Dursleys had started on another diet this summer due to Dudley’s high risk of stroking out at fourteen, though the school used the excuse that they could not make any uniforms that would fit the boy. Harry had sent out a discrete plea for help in his few letters out, because a little food for Dudley meant next to nothing for Harry. The response he got was in these gifts.  
He realized, belatedly, that he should not have sent the request to the Weasleys, or Hermione, as he received three cakes from them, none of which he could eat without running another three miles every day. The twins had sent a box of their newest snack based pranks. Funny, but useless unless he wanted another beating from his uncle. Sirius didn't send him food, instead he gave Harry a clipping from the Daily Prophet with a picture of Graham addressing the crowd in what looked like a passionate manner. Artemis was looking stately by his side, glaring any heckler in the crowd into submission, letting Graham go on uninterrupted. Above the photo was the headline ‘Mishap in Black! Sirius Black Falsely Imprisoned?’ while below had the caption ‘Privately hired, up and coming lawyer Graham Seacrate and business partner Artemis Pennygood tear into the Black case with fervour. New evidence comes to light. Peter Pettigrew alive?’. Harry decided that he would get it framed.  
     Neville surprised him by sending a single, simple ring. The note that it was wrapped in told Harry that his oldest friend had sent it without his grandmothers knowledge. This was important because it was an Oath Ring. Giving it to Harry a Lord of almost equal rank, once Neville succeeded the title, meant that he was binding the House of Longbottom into the service of House Potter. Staring at the ring for what seemed like an age, it took him awhile to slip the deceptively plain ring onto his right pinky finger. To refuse the gift would have been like saying that the Longbottoms were not worth his protection, which could lead other allied families to scrutinise or ostracise the rejected family. Now at least, Neville had a place to run to if his Grandmother ever snapped and started calling him Frank.  
     The next gift was from Luna, a small circular earring made of silver and a needle with which to pierce his ear with. There was no note, other than a scribble of ‘from Luna’ on the wrapping, so he shrugged and grabbed his left lobe. It took surprising force to push the needle through loose skin and his grip slipped once in the blood when he forced the earring in, it being slightly larger than the needle. When he reached into his bedside drawer for the tin of healing salve that Severus had been sending him regularly, he felt a stab of pain and the uncomfortable expansion of the apparently transfigured earring. He rolled off his bed, tin in hand, and dashed to the bathroom and its mirror. Washing off the blood he found the same plain silver ring that was supposed to go on his pinky finger next to Neville’s, now irremovable, ring. He sighed and healed his throbbing ear lobe with Snape’s salve with resignation. He couldn't take it out and he would never refuse it so he let Luna do it her way. Knowing her, she had some reason for it.  
     Draco’s gift was the most useful and Harry guessed that he had experience in a predicament like Harry's. He had sent what looked like a small, dull brown book bag. The tag, still attached, claimed that it was a Portable Pantry with a specialized pocket for chilled food and perishables. It was from this that he pulled some crackers to nibble on and a bottle of water. He called in Dobby briefly to give him the tag, that would allow the elf to enter the pantry remotely in order to keep it stocked. He also took the chance to thank him for the colourful socks the elf had given him causing the creature to blubber happily as he popped away.  
     Blaise’s gift was... odd. It was a series of moving picture in an envelope of a few exotic creatures in a beautiful setting. When he found and read the letter behind the pictures he went back and studied the photos more carefully. One was a small bounding griffin, underdeveloped wings flapping ineffectually as his fuzzy head snapped at the floating white flower seeds he was kicking up. Every once in awhile he would stop to sneeze, making his entire body shake with the force. the second picture was of a very pregnant thestral mare as she slowly grazed in a shaded paddock within a familiar tree grove. The tips of her leathery wings dug into the soil as she walked forward with care. They kept her balance and took the weight off her legs to allow her to move easier, all of which Harry found fascinating. The third, and last, picture was of what looked like a large sleeping cat. Its fur was a smoky grey and it had the main of a lion though its nose was more lupine in shape. Ever so often it would open a lazy silver eye to assess the threat of the photographer and puff out a thin cloud of gas, which showed it to be a Nundu. They lived for, what people assumed were. centuries but no one had witnessed one die as of yet so this one could very well be as old as Hogwarts. The knowing dismissal in that slitted silver eye lent credibility to that theory.  
     All three now resided in his newly acquired manor, enjoying the rooms that, like the Room of Requirement, would adjust to their specific needs. Hogwarts had given Harry the spell instructions when she had read his intentions, which led to him modifying and improving on the design. This let the new rooms bring in whatever the animal desired if it was within the scope of Harry’s ability to provide. The few things that could not be called in, like mate’s or companions, were brought to the attention of the handlers through a notice board in the main foyer. The handlers would then go to Hagrid with the requests and the Half-giant would see what he could do about filling it. He did, however, find within the envelope a proviso that was attached to the gift and it was not something that he was really against. It appeared that he would have to be introduced to Lord and Lady Zabini at the World Cup some time before the game. The location was scribbled on the bottom in a sloppy mockery of Blaise’s usual elegant scrawl and Harry sketched out a quick reply that he sent back with the barn owl.  
     Gin’s gift was a surprise and he wondered where she had found the funds but that was quickly sorted out with a brief mention of a few favors that she had called in from a Hufflepuff son of a blacksmith. The gift themselves were two straight bladed daggers that were simple but deadly sharp. He could tell that they had been layered with charms to keep them that way as well as clean and rust free. The thigh strap holsters had Notice-me-not and Anti-summoning charms soaked into the heavy leather. How she had convinced her oldest brother to help, for he could see Bill’s signature at the back of the holster strap, he would never know. He decided he might weasel the answer out of Bill later but for now he strapped the blades on his legs immediately, knowing that Chaosti would be pleased.  
     A strange box from Severus was the last to be opened. He held the letter close to his face, like all the others, to read the blurry script, but jerked away from it when it pulled out of his fingers and began to speak in Snape’s low, soft voice.  
     “Harry, this letter is the original adaptation of the spell to aid the vision impaired. I am sure you are familiar with the more common use in the form of Howlers.” Harry snorted, remembering the first one he had seen. “I came to the conclusion that you would likely struggle to read this letter so I took some steps. This letter contains careful instructions and any mistake could be detrimental to your health and I would prefer to not have to face Petunia while I remedy any side-effects. Listen carefully now and if you need to hear anything again then say ‘Stop’ and ‘Repeat from’ along with the word you wish to start from.  
     “Now put the letter down pick up the box, the point of the crest facing towards you.” Harry felt along the lid, squinting at the dark shape in the wood, turning it 180 degrees. “Opening the box requires a piece of yourself on the crest, such as hair. “The lid popped open,”Within are Six potions. On the upper left there is a small potion that you will drink first. The potion beside it has a curved cap that you will be placing over your left eye.” Harry felt the top of the vial to get a feel for the eye cover, and they reminded his a little of goggle lenses. “It must be your left eye only and it shall be painful so I do recommend you make yourself comfortable before you start. The last in the row is a topical solution that you will must apply on both on and around your lid and eyeball. This will help to ease any lingering pain and work to heal any damages that you may have suffered in your eyes over the years. However, the longer you wait to apply the topical, the more effect the second potion with have, making your vision much sharper. A full minute under the solution should bring your vision up to standard human abilities. Now remember to say ‘hold’ to stall the letter and ‘start’ to continue-”  
     “Hold” Harry forced out shakily, his trembling hand traced over the two rows of cool glass. If the Professor had been there then Harry might have embarrassed them both by hugging the man. Though he was comfortable being practically blind, he downed the first potion without hesitation. He lay back on his lumpy bed, grabbing the second vial and setting his beaten down alarm clock to five minute, and set the cap over his eye. He could feel the cool sensation of the potion filling in the hollow of the cap from the short vial, and he clutched at the topical while he waited.  
     It took seconds for the solution to sink into his skin, which was good because the agonizing pain stabbing into his eye had the vial tumbling from his numb fingers. He somehow managed stuff a ratty corner of his blanket into his mouth to muffle the scream he just couldn't hold back. In his hazed mind it felt like the the needle Luna had sent with her present was being dragged around his eyeball, shredding the soft tissue while the inside felt like it was boiling like an egg. He had the presence of mind to drop the topical to keep from crushing it, but kept it against his leg in close reach. With his hands free he used them to cover his face smother the noises that escaped him just so that he would be able to hear the chimes of his alarm. He didn't know how long it had been, but he had managed to switch from strangle screams to a prolonged string of hissed curses before his voice gave out. His free hand had been uncontrollably punching his mattress and he almost missed the chiming bells of his alarm.  
     The cap of the topical was unscrewed before he touched it but he dove two fingers in without hesitation. Within seconds he was smearing the mixture all over his eye, liberally coating his eyelid. An almost burning cold counteracted the heat of the pain and it was enough to convince him to hold open his eyelid and apply the salve directly to his eyeball. He rolled his eye, uncomfortably, back and forth to coat as much as possible. He repeated this until the entire vial was empty and the potion was covering his eye in a freezing paste, absorbing slowly. Harry relaxed into the pillow gratefully and called out for the letter to start again.  
     “- though before you begin I must tell you that human eye does have limits to its abilities. My suggestion would be to not extend the time of endurance past three minute.” It took a great deal of will not to start cursing at the letter. “To balance your eyesight you will need to withstand the same amount of time for your right eye.”  
     “Hold,” Resetting his alarm he downed the other potion and covered his eye. It hit him just as hard by he was ready for the pain this time and was able to distance himself by focusing in the ticking of the clock. The sheets he was gripping tore seconds before the alarm blared but the topical was in his hands, open and coating his fingers before he could even thought of the action. Once his eye was well and truly coated, he shut off the alarm and blindly grasped the box.  
     “Start.”  
     “I do realize that you will likely be visiting your Dream Realm once you finish so I have provided a simple black blindfold at the bottom of the lid to protect the topical while it is being absorbed. I am sure that you have noticed that it is difficult to open your eyes. When you are able to open your eyes again it will be safe to remove the blindfold.” harry snorted, tying the strip of cloth over his eyes, “At a later date, if you choose to use them, you will find a pair of glasses in the small compartment hidden on the left side of the box. simply press down on the crest and say ‘Vision’.  
     “I wish you peace on your day of birth and, though you don’t seem too terribly attached to the idea of your parents, I know Lily would be exceptionally proud of you. In Potter’s case, I have no urge to delve into the twisted thought process of the man. Ask your mutt. Sincerely, Lord Severus. P. Snape.” The letter folded itself, leaving Harry to chuckle softly, thinking that the man was far more sentimental than he wanted anyone to realise. Clearing the bed he settled back onto the mattress, for once without pain, and blissfully slept.

  
***

  
     There was a whuff of surprise and an uneasy shifting of large bodies when he appeared. He didn’t move, letting them see him without accidentally bumping into anything or startling them more.  
     *Mist-child?* a familiar voice brushed against his mind as a puff of hot breath ruffled his hair.  
     “Hello Lady Moonshadow.” The crowd of unicorns relaxed, recognizing him. “As promised, I am here on the day of my birth.”  
     *Mistral rides to return.* she nuzzled his right ear, nibbling at his hair affectionate. He grinned and stroked her soft jaw line, his magic, free from restrictions here, spun away from him to check on the condition of her foal. What he found made him freeze.  
     “Congratulations.” he breathed. Checking again he found that the birth had been uncomplicated and she was in full health. “How Long?”  
     *One cycle of the moon.* he could hear the pride in her, practically feel the glow.  
     “His name?”  
     *Mistspear.* A deeper, more aggressive voice answered. Harry turned into the direction of the sound of approaching hooves, one strong and even, the other uneven and hurried. *As named by the Arachnians.*  
     “Hello Mistral, I-” he was cut off with a soft ‘oof’ as a small equine body barrelled into him. Moonshadow had stepped behind him to keep Harry from toppling over, and he was grateful that the foal’s horn was just a nub for now, pressing into his chest as it was. “I am very happy to meet you as well, Mistspear.”  
     *He was borne with your voice in his heart and your Craft in his blood.* Mistral explained the greeting. *His colouring reflects this connection.*  
     “Colouring?” Harry regretted, slightly, not coming by later when his eyes were cleared. He could feel all three unicorns pulling back to get a good look at him.  
     *Your eyes!* Young and panicked, Mistspear’s mental voice was accompanied by an image of Harry with hollow pits for eyes, *They have taken your eyes* he wailed.  
     *Mist Child?* Mistral quivered with barely restrained rage.  
     Harry held his hand out blindly, try to reach at least one of the two upset, males. “It’s alright. There is nothing wrong with my eyes.”  
     Moonshadow sniffed delicately at the cloth, *You smell of herbs. Why are you sight bound?* Her aura of calm acceptance seemed to soothe the males, Who harry just realized were both giving off the feel of Warlord Princes, not just Mistral.  
     “My eyes are being healed,” he explained happily, “so that I no longer need the curved glass to see properly.” Mistspear pressed his soft muzzle into Harry’s still outstretched hand, obviously hoping for some comfort. Harry was happy to oblige. “Though I do regret not being able to see the colours that connect us.”  
     Mistral nipped at his hair, *His mane is as a grey stone after rain, his fur the same black as your own.”  
     Harry’s breath hitched at the image that grew in his mind. The foal’s horn, of course would be a pure ivory. “You must be so beautiful.” He praised the colt softly, chuckling at the happy prance he could hear as a result. I was sure to be an interesting picture to see a single black unicorn in a herd of white, and he had no doubt the young stallion would be stunning once it grew into adulthood. Even by earth standards Mistspear was unique. The white unicorns that were apart of the wizarding world were all a bright, shimmering white with little to no variation between the individuals. The rare black unicorn were all a deep pitch that consumed them from hoof to horn. No matter the colour, though, all the foals were a soft gold until they began to grow their adult coats. None of them would ever be able to hold a candle to Mistspear, as far as Harry was concerned.  
     He sighed happily, surrounded by the peace of the valley and the warmth of the furred bodies around him, until he felt the sun on his face and noticed the position. Breaking away from the herd, Mistspear awkwardly guiding him on one side and Moonshadow on the other, Mistral lead the way to the edge of the clearing. Harry said his goodbyes quietly, impulsively kneeling to embrace the foal around its neck.  
     “Meeting you has been the best gift I have ever received on my birthday.” he whispered sincerely. Letting him go he took the jump into the Winds.  
     *Sire?* Mistspear quivered with the awe he had been suppressing.  
     *He is the one.* The large stallion confirmed. *Grow strong and you will join him.* The foal took off with a mental cry of joy, bounding about the herd on steadily strengthening legs. Mistral and Moonshadow shared a soft look after watching the black streak that was their son for a few moments.  
     Mistspear was a miracle for them as Moonshadow had been declared barren after the brutal attack from years ago when Mistral had lost his sire. When the invaders had tried to break Moonshadow they had torn her internally, which hadn't been caught until too late. They had lost hope until a small, bawling child, smelling of earth and blood, had stumbled into their midst. Six years later Moonshadow had miraculously conceived only to miscarry shortly after, due to stress and worry. Mistspear had been from the second time she had conceived and they both knew that it was only Mist-Child’s regular visits, and the support he had given with his strange Craft, that had allowed her to carry to term. The Colt’s colouring was proof enough but that was only secondary to the sheer strength of their offspring. He should be far too young to be able to mind-speak and he was already giving echoes of the darker Jewels he would wear after his birthright ceremony.  
     Mistspear had been born to them but he belonged to Mist-Child. All they could do now was raise him to be strong enough to protect the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait and any spelling or consistency mistakes that may have been left behind after my checks. Any interested Beta's please let me know. I am in desperate need.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Me no own  
> A/N: I've got me a Beta!!!! I'm so excited. And as you can tell, the chapters are coming out just a tad faster. All this is made possible by the most awesome CkyKing. I rain thanks down upon you CkyKing and hope you can put up with my stupidly short emails for a long time. All praise goes to CryKing for motivating me enough to get my next chapter out so soon. I send my appreciation to everyone else that offered to take up the position an I am glad that you all liked the story enough to want to help me produce the following chapters. I hope what comes next lives up to the what I have so far. 
> 
> “Speaking”  
> ~Parsletounge~  
> *mindspeak*

Harry spent the better part of the morning jumping from one group of friends to another, enjoying his one full day of freedom. He had been right about Chaosti being dutifully approving of the knives from Ginny, but had given Harry a second set, a pair the male had used as a boy, to train with and care for. The new set was strapped, crossed over the small of his back.  
  


His last stop before the Keep had been Tersa’s little hut where he had stayed for lunch. She was the only one not worried about his apparent blindness, though he had managed to impress the Dea al Mon when he had blocked a surprise blow aimed at him from Chaosti and Gabrielle’s eleven year old daughter, Sharelle.   
  
Tersa had also twisted something cool and metallic through his hair, hooking the ends together on his forehead like a coronet, before shooing him out the door with a soft kiss to the gift. Without question, he jumped the webs. Draca was waiting for him at the doors to the Keep when he dropped in front of the gates.  
  


~You have healed your eyes, I see.~ she hissed at him. Effortlessly, he followed her imposing presence inside the Keep and down the old empty halls.  
  


~Yes Lady. The potions to do so were a gift.~  
  


A soft, scaled finger brushed his skin just below the blindfold. ~Someone of considerable talent.~  
  


~And one who respects the beauty in serpents.~  
  


She let out a throaty laugh that hissed through inhuman teeth, ~No need to entice me, Child, your approval is enough.~  
  


~But your wisdom is welcome.~  
  


~And always given.~ The words came out with so much amused affection that he had to fight the urge to hug her. Privately, he thought of her as his Grandmere, and he was sure she knew it, but it was never mentioned between them.  
  


~Lady.~ he spoke up reluctantly, ~I always enjoy your companionship and I wish we had a day to spend together, but I have an appointment with Aunty Kay soon.~  
  


~Yes,~ she nodded. ~but first, you will follow me.~  
  


~As you say Lady.~ he subsided easily. There was never any point in contradicting her when she gave him that tone of voice. What he did do, however, was try and determine where they were going from his memories of the Keep. He got completely lost the moment she took his hand and led him down a curving set of wide steps that he had never been on before. He felt no light around so assumed that even if his eyes had been unbound, he would have been walking blind anyways. Draca hissed in warning when the stairs ended but she had no need to do so as her whispered steps had done it for her. His hearing stretched out into the wide, open chamber and, at first, he only heard Draca and himself in the darkness. As they approached a large source of a soft heat, however, he could hear and feel the slow and deep breathing of an extremely large creature.  
  


~Draca?~  
  


~He is Lorn.~ She answered, making him trip.  
  


*Welcome, Child.* Blindly, Harry bowed deeply to the ancient, tired voice that was filled with so much sadness, understanding and affection that it made him ache. *You need not bow to me Child.*  
  


Harry didn’t move, ~You will forever have my utmost respect, Elder, as well as my unreserved love.~ He knew it was the absolute truth, just like when he met Draca, that the instant and unexplainable adoration he held for them would never fade.  
  


*As you will have ours.* a waft of hot breath accompanied the promise, ruffling his wild hair over the metal circlet on his head. Harry knew that he would be weeping if the potions had allowed it  
.

~We have a gift for you.~ Draca stepped forward, untwisting the part of the circlet that was centered high on his brow. She pressed something into the empty space before twisting it closed again. She then slid something metallic though the ring in his ear that dangled low against his jaw with a fair, though comfortable, weight.  
  


*And words of council.* Lorn forestalled any thanks he would have given, *Learn the rules of Protocol in this realm. They will guide you in your travels.*  
  


~Will you teach me?~ he asked.  
  


~No, Child,~ Draca answered softly, ~You will find the one named Saetan. He has always respected the ways of the Blood.~  
  


~But I am not one of the Blood.~ He protested reluctantly. He may have similar magics, but he was not a part of this world.  
  


*You are the beginning of Blood. You shall be the one to bring these teachings to your people.*  
  


~You must learn to live by the laws of Protocol to show them the honor in the Darkness.~ The severity in their voices had Harry nodding his agreement even though he didn’t fully understand.  
  


*Go now in peace, Child. Your teacher awaits.* the large dragon urged him gently. Harry stepped forward carefully, arm extended, until his hand connected with warm and pebbly scales. The width between the slitted nostrils and the deep slant of the head gave Harry a general idea on how immense the ancient being was.  
  


~Can I come see you again?~ he fought the urge to let his body sprawl over the comforting warmth.  
  


*You will always be welcome here, Child.~  
  


~Always.~ Draca echoed. She pulled him away gently and led him upstairs once more. They paused back in the main hallways of the Keep, Draca pulling him into one of her rare and cherished hugs. He returned it fiercely.  
  


~Thank you for this.~ he hissed in a whisper.  
  


~It was a gift to us as well, Child, to be able to share you day of birth.~ she stroked the small hairs at the base of his skull gently, ~I hold one other gift for you, this one from Arachna.~  
  


He felt her call something to her as he pulled away before she handed him a large rectangular box. ~They were too busy to see me when I visited earlier.~  
  


~Finishing this, yes.~ She opened the box and held out a sleeve for him to feel. ~Formal attire fit for a Lord, made of spider silk by the Weaver of Dreams herself.~  
  


It was hard for Harry to breath as the material slid through his fingers like water, the fabric of the cuffs giving way to softly floating webs. “This is too much.” he choked out in English.  
  


~It is in place of your Birthright Gift. We all celebrate in our own ways. Accept it gracefully.~  
  


~I will honor it always.~ he replied appropriately to the chastisement, packing and storing it away reverently.  
  


“It is about time!” a new voice broke the solemnity between them. Harry turned to the sound of multiple steps approaching them, frowning at the lack of wheels on stone.  
  


“Aunty Kay?” he asked carefully.  
  


“Kiss kiss.” he could hear the smirk in her tone, elation burning through him.  
  


“You are walking!” he beamed. He kissed Draca on the cheek in his customary farewell, amused as more than one of the approaching footsteps faltered for an instant, before he moved to meet them halfway. When he was close enough for them to get a good look at him, he faltered at the muffled thump of something matching her steps. “A cane ? The healing should have worked better than that.”  
  


“It did,” Lucivar’s familiar voice answered, surprise lacing it.  
  


“I use it now so that people underestimate me.” Karla explained.  
  


Harry grinned, satisfied, “You should get some a blade installed with the wood as a sheath, that would surprise anyone.”  
  
“Not a bad idea.” Lucivar mumbled.

 

“Harrison.” The soothing baritone was rough with concern.  
  


“Granda!” There was a round of coughing from the group making Harry blush, “Grandma Tersa told me call you that, sorry. No one would tell me what your name was.”  
  


“Saetan SaDiablo.” There was a definite wheeze to his voice that worried Harry, but he put that aside for now.  
  


“Saetan? That was easier than I thought.”  
  


“What was?” Karla asked, fingers ghosting over the black cloth on his face.  
  


“Lorn told me to learn Protocol from you Sir, so I was going to ask Lucivar if he knew you.” He felt some kind of emotion coming from the oldest male and the one that hadn’t been introduced yet but he couldn't determine what it was just then.  
  


“I should,” Lucivar snorted, “He is my father.”  
  


“You dad? But not Tersa’s son, for certain. Not with those wings.”  
  


“Different mothers.” Lucivar confirmed.  
  


“So then who is your third escort Aunty Kay?” There was a quiet feel of surprise from the men.  
  


“My other son, Daemon.” Saetan replied for her, sounding resigned which confused Harry.  
  


“Gree-”  
  


“What happened to your eyes, runt? And where did you get those Jewels?” Karla cut him off.  
  


“Jewels?”  He felt her fingers brush against his forehead and then his ear. “The headgear I got from grandma but Draca added something to it and my earring. It was a gift.” He tugged on the cool stone that was twisted in a smooth casing of metal threads. “As for the blindfold, it’s to keep away irritants until my eyes fully heal.”  
  


“Heal from what?” A new voice asked, closer than expected, and it was smooth like Saetan’s but deeper. Harry found he liked that voice, it was calming, and thought it must have belonged to the mysterious Daemon.  
  


“I usually need glasses,” he answered, “and when I lose them, I am essentially blind. I received the potions and salves to fix the defect as a gift this morning. All physical damages are being healed now by a topical potion that has to fully soak in so the blindfold is keeping anything from compromising it.”  
  


“Fascinating.” Saetan seemed to have pulled himself back together. “Do you recommend it for medicinal use?”  
  


“Bloody hell no!” Harry swore, swinging his head in negative. “I nearly screamed my throat raw at the first application. I don’t think I would have been able to handle the second if I hadn't been used to pain by now.” The silence that followed his unthinking words were more than a little awkward. Karla was the first to pick up on his uncomfortable shifting and hooked her arm around his, leading him away.  
  


“So why are you here for so long?” the males trailed behind them.  
  


“My relatives left on a trip for four days. I finished all the chores they gave me in the first two days and set aside today for visiting. It was the best way I could think of to spend my birthday.”  
  


“Your birthday?” She gasped dramatically. “Well I suppose I have a gift for you too. I’m taking you to the Hall, a place where I learned to be a Queen. I’m also going to introduce you to the ‘Lady’.”  
  


“The Lady?” he smirked, “The elusive Lady that all of the Kindred speak of so highly?”  
  


“You got it.”  
  


“I’m honored,” he inhaled deep as they stepped out of the house. “But I am a little disappointed that I won’t actually get to see her. Everyone says that she is beautiful.”  
  


“She is.” Daemon rumbled, pleased.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Lucivar’s smirking voice egged at his brother on from behind. “He’s just a gloating husband.”  
  


“You’re one to talk,” Harry called back. “I’ve heard you gush about your boy.” He was a little high off of having such a good day so his self-preservation instinct was being put on a shelf for now. Not hiding his mocking leer, he raised his voice an octave. “Oh, see how fast he is! My boy is so strong! Just look at that wingspan!” He dropped his voice back down. “And on and on-”  
  


He ducked sharply, dragging Karla along with him, at the swish of a fist sailing overhead. He slipped out of her grip and danced back between the two non-winged males. “Lucy, darling! Don’t be so cruel!”Daemon roared with laughter as Harry gripped the winds for a second to dodge the next attack from the airborne warrior. “Now that’s just unfair, flying about like that.” He jumped again. “Good thing your wings make so much noise.”  
  


He would have jumped again but an arm like a steel band snaked around his waist, pulling him against a male chest. He flailed a bit until he recognized Daemon’s scent. How he knew what the man smelled like was a mystery to him. “Jaenelle is waiting.”  
  


“Prepare to be worked into oblivion, brat, the next time we have a session.” Harry stuck out his tongue at the Eyrien, dodging the hand that grabbed for it.  
  


“Children.” Saetan called in a tired, if amused voice. Harry was passed from one male to another, to his indignation, and forced to sit in what felt like a carriage.  
  


“What is this?” he gestured around them.  
  


“A carriage to carry us on the Winds.” Saetan answered, “How is it you can manage so well without your sight?”  
  


Harry’s smile was wane. “Like I said, I’ve been practically blind since I was a child. I didn’t get corrective lenses until I was around seven. The best I could do was distinguish blurs.”  
  


“So you adapted.” Lucivar concluded.  
  


“Not exactly. I adapted when I got the glasses. I adapted to actually having glasses as I had never been able to see right before. I never actually knew there was a problem until then.” The males had nothing to say to that, or at least nothing nice. “This whole carriage thing feels rather slow. Is it moving?”  
  


Saetan’s response was indulgent. “We are traveling on the Black Winds. We should arrive in a few short hours.”  
  


“Oh. Aunty Kay, can you picture where we are going?” The Glacian Queen smirked, knowing what was going to happen. “Thanks, I would hold on to something.” That was the only warning they got before the carriage jerked sharply and then they were all pulled through a very thin tube. The carriage shuddered to an abrupt stop when Harry crowed ‘We’re here!’ and was lead out by Karla. Lucivar tumbled out, dry heaving. Daemon and Saetan exited last, supporting each other, while the younger spewed curses.  
  


“Hell’s fire! What was that?” Lucivar rasped.  
  


“Sorry.” Harry didn’t sound sorry at all. “I should have warned you about the feeling. It’s called Apparation and I adapted it for the Winds. Basically you think of where you want to go, and you have to have a clear image, and find it on the Winds. When you do find it, you kind of grip the area and pull yourself towards it. Instant travel.”  
  


“Never, ever, ever, ever, ever again.” Lucivar was muttering, swaying slightly as he plodded up the walkway.  
  


“Next time, Storm-Child,” Saetan started imploringly, “let us take the route that we are accustomed to.”  
  


“Alright, it’s just that I don't have a few hours to spare.”  
  


Karla patted the disappointed teen’s hand sympathetically. “Let the old men be stuck in their ways, I like the idea of that kind of travel.”  
  


“Can you do it?” Daemon braved the question.  
  


“Of course not.” she sniffed, “But that’s only because he told me what could happen if it is done wrong.”  
  


“There are dangers?” Saetan’s voice got tight.  
  


“Splinching.” her nose scrunched in disgust and Harry could feel three pairs of furious gold eyes focus on him.  
  


“Harry?”  
  


He was reluctant to answer, as he should well be, “Splinching is where you lose control of the jump and only parts of you get to the destination. You don’t die or anything.” he rushed to re-assure them, hearing strangled noises. “You just have to find the other piece, is all.”  
  


Beale opened the front door before they could think to say anything more, letting the men fall further behind. Daemon stared at the slim back in the thread bare, oversized clothes. He had wanted to comment on them when he had first seen the waif-like boy, but Karla had glared at him viciously when he had opened his mouth, freezing his words. Now that he was a safe distance away, he turned to his Sire.  
  


“Is this typical of raising a child?” he asked cautiously. He received a sharp look anyways.  
  


“I have never this way when raising a son,” neither of them mentioned the two sons he did not get to raise. “But I am getting vivid flashes of when Jaenelle was a child.”  
  


“I understand what you meant about him feeling different. It’s like…” he trailed off, unsure of how to vocalise it. Lucivar took up the torch.  
  


“Like you're swimming in a churning lake and he is the one swimming below, causing the eddies.”  
  


“Yes,” Daemon agreed, “only it’s a soft whirlpool and he is drawing you in.”  
  


Saetan was slightly disturbed at the description, thinking of Witch’s downward spiral to her power, but said nothing. Daemon’s automatic jump to the thought of raising young Harrison was interesting and heartening. They caught up with them up ahead, the two of them now chatting about some airborne sport, just in front of the doors to Jaenelle’s sitting room.  
  


“Come in.” Her distracted summons called to them. When they entered, they found her immersed in one of her old and foreign books that were written in some strange language. They assumed that she must have gotten bored while waiting for them. She had healed well from her ordeal when she had cleansed the Blood, but there were days when she tired easily so she was generally less active than she used to be. Karla tended to be her most constant companion.  
  


“Book down, Jaenelle,” Said Queen ordered, “I’m introducing you to my clever little student Harry, or Harrison, if you are a stuffy old man like Uncle Saetan. Harry, the woman you can’t see is Jaenelle Angeline, once Queen of Ebon Askavi. Say hello.”  
  


“Hello.” they both replied in the same solemn tone.  
  


“Mother Night, there is two of them.” Saetan groaned softly. Harry and the two women dissolved into snickers.  
  


“How are your eyes doing?” Lady Jaenelle asked as he was settled in a chair.  
  


“Hopefully fine soon. As soon as I can blink I am healed.” He took a subtle breath and coughed unexpectedly. “Whoa, you are much, much stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”  
  


“You can tell?” She asked interested, the males settling around them.  
  


“Sure. Everyone with power has a faint scent of… the closest I can explain it as is burnt air, the smell of fire without the wood. The stronger it is, the more powerful the user, even if they are shielding.”  
  


“Do you know what Jewels we wear?” Daemon asked from beside his wife.  
  


“Only Aunty Kay’s Grey.”  
  


“Then can you make a guess at our Jewels?” Lucivar sounded excited.  
  


“Alright,” He took a deep breath, ready for the smell this time, “If I start from Aunty Kay, then Lucivar is next with what is probably a very dark Ebon Grey, nearly Black. Granda has a very solid midway Black,” Jaenelle grinned impishly at the ‘Granda’, “while Mr Daemon is a very dark Black. You though, Lady Jaenelle, are entirely different. Where they smell like flames, you smell like the air after a lightning strike, burnt ozone, and very strongly too. I would say that you are so far below Black that regular Jewels don’t apply.” There was no fear or awe in his voice as he stated the facts as he saw them, and that brought a small and secretive smile to Jaenelle’s face. The men relaxed as they saw the affection blooming in their Queen towards the boy, who was apparently oblivious.  
  


“Only,” he continued, “I don’t understand why all of you skim the surface of your powers. Doesn’t descending take time?”  
  


“To get to full power it does take a few hours,” Daemon answered, “For Jaenelle, it is 72 hours.”  
  


“You don’t descend, do you?” Witch asked carefully, she was also feeling his pull but it was different. This child, this strange boy was hers. She could feel it in the womb that he should have grown in. Not just the child of her soul, but of the Darkness as well.  
  


“Well, no, I don't think so. I figured out I was instinctually shielding my power all my life. I let loose once in school, just to see what would happen, and I wound up destroying the room I was in. Some of my teachers are still trying to find out what happened.” mainly because the room was now immune to any magical interference and no house-elf would step foot in there.  
  


“Would you mind showing us?”  Saetan half-dreaded asking.  
  


“I suppose not, but…” Jaenelle knew that look, though she couldn’t see most of his face. It was the wariness of someone expecting rejection. If he was afraid of someone as strong as her rejecting him…  
  


“It’s alright,” she crooned, “You can show us.”  
  


Some type of tension seemed to fall off his shoulders as the blanket that had been filtering his power fell away. Saetan had been wrong, no, all the males had been wrong when they had tried to describe Harry’s pull. It wasn’t like swimming in a whirlpool lake. All of the people in the room felt the the air press out of their lungs. Helene, who was cleaning a room at the far end of the Hall, fell to her knees gasping for breath. Beale paused in the hallway, shuddering slightly, as his feet would not allow him to take another step. All about the Hall, there was silence as anything living stared at the statuesque building in reverence. It felt like the Darkness itself had stepped into their Realm. Those closest to him felt like they were treading the threads of the Abyss, while deep, deep below them, below even Jaenelle, Harry floated comfortably in the Darkness that empowered them all.  
  


Abruptly it was gone again, muted, and Harry was babbling, leaving them bereft, “I know it’s a bit different from all of you, but I figured it was because I am not from here and technically, my spirit ‘died’ when its connection to my world was severed, but it is similar. I would try to ascend but Draca said that could rupture the webs, ‘cause I would just bring the power with me. Also it would probably take a few months to get up to Opal. Grandma says that the Abyss was my Birthright so I have no Offering, and Lorn said some confusing things about learning Protocol so I don’t really know if I’m Blood or not. I don’t think so but-”  
  


“You are Blood.” Jaenelle interrupted fiercely, the others unable to muster up words after the rapid fire of confessions. She was kneeling in front of him now, slim fingers cupping his face. The voice of Witch caressed the air. “You are the purest of Blood, no matter where you were born.”  
  


“How-how can you know?” his voice cracked.  
  


“You are Blood of my Blood and I am Witch.” He choked on a sob the tried to force its way free, but he could not stop the tears that burned down his cheeks at the absolute conviction in her words. He blinked hard and rapidly, trying not to break down completely. It was Jaenelle, not Witch that spoke next, “Have your eyes been opened?”  
  


It took a minute for him to truly understand what she said but when he did the shock was enough to halt the flow of tears. Her cool and delicate fingers slipped behind his head and pulled apart the ties on his blindfold. He clenched his eyes closed in anticipation for the bright light. Someone, who likely realized his predicament, shut a few of the curtains so that the lighting was to a tolerable level where he could blink rapidly enough to give his irises time to adjust properly.  
  


That was when he saw her, in perfect ethereal detail. Jaenelle Angeline, Queen of Ebon Askavi, former or not, was the achingly beautiful Lady he had haunted quietly, hoping to steal glances while being unable to face the soul searing longing to just throw himself into her arms and let her heal his spirit. He couldn’t, not after fighting for so long to survive on his own, but he loved her. It was the same as with Lorn and Draca, the adoration he felt was instantaneous but for her it was deeper in a way that he thought he had lost years ago, when Petunia had struck him for the first time. Like a mother.  
  


He couldn’t handle this, couldn’t deal with it. Not yet.  
  


Harry drew in a shuddering breath… and faded. It was like a gust of wind stirring through smoke as he became insubstantial and then was gone.

***

He gasped awake to the sound of slamming doors. The Dursleys had returned early forcing him to scramble to clear his room of magical objects, storing away the most notable things like the circlet and earing in a pocket of dark power. He barely spared a glance at the twisted silver that cradled a set of deep, uncut, Ebony Jewels. Calming himself, he mentally ran through his list of chores, confirming to himself that he had finished everything before he descended from the second floor to greet his relatives as expected.  
  


Petunia flitted from room to room, becoming more disgruntled when she found nothing out of place. He said nothing as she reported to Vernon, and was silent when he backhanded Harry as he yelled at him for wasting time when he should have been thinking up chores to do. He simply watched them silently and with empty, uncovered, eyes with perfect clarity for the first time. Dudley soon left the room, sweaty and trembling. Petunia paled when she was briefly caught in the dark emerald gaze, something akin to horror blooming in her chest. Vernon grew angrier at his apparent insolence, forcing him upstairs to test out his newest ‘toy’- a triple braided flail that was knotted on the ends to leave deep and throbbing bruises.  
  


Harry had finally gotten a taste of a family that wanted him, welcomed him with no reservation, only to be forced back into the prison of his childhood. As his usual beating continued on his fourteenth birthday, flat jade eyes slowly filled with a cold spike of hatred that he had never felt before.  
  


When his Uncle left him for the night, no amount of tea or blankets seemed to affect the bone deep chill he felt the moment Harry had turned to look at him after he finished. The two male Dursleys would later brush it off as weak little Harry just getting angry once they realized it was his birthday. Petunia, however, would begin to truly watch her nephew, finally remembering that the child in their care was the son of her sister. She would also remember how terrifying her sister’s rage could be.

***

Jaenelle couldn’t move from her position kneeling on the floor, making Daemon join her.   
  
“Sweetheart?” he murmured soothingly, caressing her arms, calming his own growing panic at seeing the boy just vanish. He focused on his wife instead, his Queen.  
  


“They are hurting him again.” She said in a small voice, staring down at her hands. “The hatred is so deep. We can’t let it poison him.”  
  


“There is nothing we can do.” he admitted painfully, “We don’t know how to reach him.”  
  


“From what I’ve gleaned, it would also be a fight to gain custody of him in his world. We have no status there.” Saetan regretted the truth of his words.  
  


“Could you get us set up in that world? Carry over a fortune and start up the base work for a court?” Jaenelle turned to her father.  
  


“With perhaps a month to acclimate myself and enough blood to withstand the daytime forays, yes, that could be easily done. It is reaching the Realm itself that is the issue at the moment.”  
  


She broke away from her husband’s arms, standing before her family. “I can get us there. Now that I know him, that I have touched him, I can find him.” she swore. “Also, I have this, which is not of this realm.” They could now see the strip of soft black cloth that she had been gently running through her fingers. The same cloth that had cover bright, Jewel green eyes that were so familiar, but unique at the same time.  
  


“What do you need?” Saetan was on his feet, an unusual amount of excitement leaking into his voice. Jaenelle’s show of teeth was a savage mockery of a grin.  
  


“A Dark Altar and at least a week to concentrate.”  
  


“Would the Altar at the Keep suffice?”  
  


“It will be perfect.” With gentle kiss to her forehead, Saetan swept out of the room, unhurried but with purpose.  
  


“Cat.” Lucivar stopped his Queen from following. “You sure about this?”  
  


Twilight eyes turned on him but he didn’t back down. He had to be sure before he told his son. It was Witch that answered. “I am going to claim my son. Yours will most likely choose to follow.”  
  


“I know,” he sighed, accepting the inevitability, “How can he look so much like you two?” He asked the question that had been bothering him from the first time he laid eyes on the child.  
  


“Tersa told me once,” Karla cut in, startling the ones who had forgotten she was there, “and I didn’t understand it for a long time. What she said was that he was not born from his parents, he was born _for_ his parents. You, Jaenelle, may be our Dreams-Made-Flesh, but he is yours, only he is the one dreaming.” They were listening to her avidly now. “I calculated it once, the first time I learned of his birth date. I found that he was conceived around the same time that you two were having that week long escapade when Daemon first fulfilled his husbandly duty.” she teased.  
  


“We used contraceptives!” Jaenelle protested. She blushed under the looks that gained her.  
  


“Born _for_ you, not _from_ you.” Karla reiterated.  
  


“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s soft drawl cut off any rising argument. “He is ours no matter the method. For now, we have to visit Geoffrey.”  
  


“Why him?” came from two curious occupants while his wife's beaming smile lit up his world.  
  


“We may have to adopt him in his Realm, but in this one, and all others, I will have him claimed as my own.” His Black Jewels flared with his oath, his golden eyes molten, and Lucivar understood. The situation was like a vague echo of their childhoods, and Daemon would never allow that to continue if he could help it.  
  


“So what are you going to name him?” He asked as they all made their way out of the study.  
  


“Harrison Lucian SaDiablo.”  
  


Lucivar didn’t say a word about the warmth that brought to his chest, “Bastard.”  
  


“Prick.” The women exchanged exasperated looks when the grins they gave each other were identical.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those of you who caught the age discrepancy with Daemonar and Harry, Daemonar is one of the long lived races so I am looking at it as if his aging is slow enough that he is physically the same age as Harry despite being 17 years old or so. And that is how I am fixing the discrepancy. Lets move on and never speak of this again.  
> Nys


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Please note that I have taken liberties with the family structures of some of the characters so that they do not completely follow the original stories character bios. Sometimes, I have done it for the impact in the plot lines, and other times, it is just a plot device to move the story along.
> 
> So that is just a warning for you if something doesn't quite match up to the books.   
> Thanks, Nys.

Harry moaned as he rolled over carefully, thankful that he only had bruises this time. He had hoped that with his ‘dreaming’ that he wouldn’t get the visions that the Web had shown him last year. He had been wrong. Instead, it had ripped through him while he had been playing with the wolf pups of Shadow’s descendants. They had panicked when he had fallen, calling a healer, but he had awoken before they could reach him. He would have to remember to apologize tomorrow night, but for now, he mourned the gardener, Frank, whose last thoughts had been on saving Harry until the end, and Bertha Jorkins who had died as an unwitting pawn. There was nothing he could do for them and the visions had revealed nothing he didn’t already know. He was sure they were going to be some very painful annoyances. 

He plodded groggily to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. The youthful face of a fourteen year old stared at from the mirror but Harry had to wonder if he had always looked like this. He didn’t know if it was because of his improved eyesight but he barely recognized himself. 

In the past few weeks, every spare moment he found he had spent running through the exercises that Lucivar had given him, using a set of sticks and a staff that he had carved out of some trees that he had found in the playground. His goal was to make the movements as close to second nature as he could before he saw Daemonar and his father next. 

Because of the constant exercise and the steady supply of food, courtesy of Draco’s gift, he had filled out more than in the past summers. The shape of his face was slipping away from a near copy of James Potter, though with the softer lines of prepubescence, into a more masculine squareness. The line of his nose, surprisingly straight considering the abuse, was crested on either side by fine dark brows and led down to bow lips that were almost too wide, but he knew he would grow into them. Surreal green eyes peered out from sooty black lashes and healthy tan skin, drifting to the bed tousled mass of inky black hair spread thickly over his scalp. The only big flaw that he could see was the jagged and puffy scar on his forehead that looked recently inflicted. If he had to label himself critically, then he would say he was two steps left of pretty, but not bad looking for sure. 

That would come in handy during the political networking events he would have to face once he claimed his birthright. He could fool the more egotistical politicians with the pretty boy act, though he would have to avoid the ones that would try to get close to him because of his looks. He knew depravity was not only a Muggle device.

Dropping his gaze, he plucked at the thin fabric of his newest shirt, a powder blue polo that hung off one shoulder, and decided that he needed to send another letter to Gringotts. If he could escape for a few hours, likely when Mrs.Weasley took them school shopping, then he could pick up some clothes in London. 

There was an explosion of grunts and sleepy groans that signaled the waking of the Dursleys. He didn’t rush knowing that he had plenty of time to gather his training weapons and make his way outside without being noticed. Since the days had been getting hotter, Harry had wished that he could take off his shirt as he worked out, but someone was always watching. 

In the mornings, it was the older neighbors before they went off to work, watching out the windows. Some would watch with suspicion, while others were simply curious, but the majority were the women of the neighborhood. The part that Harry found disturbing was that he would often catch his aunt staring at him from the kitchen window.

In the afternoons, when he could escape from a surprisingly short list of chores, he would practice to the audience of teenagers from all around the area. The girls would whisper and giggle to each other, which was fairly unnerving, until he went in for the night. Some days, like today, some girls were out earlier. A trio stood just outside of the Dursleys’ property, two of them egging on the third until she cautiously approached. 

He didn’t acknowledge her until she was close enough that he might accidentally hit her if he continued. She was shorter than him by a good two inches, though at least 3 years older, with straight brown hair and pale skin. Her dark brown eyes would flicker up to meet his, only to dart away shyly, over and over.

“Yes?” he asked her softly, his voice not cracking like usual and staying in the low tenor of its prepubescent change. Her skin flushed red and her head dipped, causing her hair to hide her face. 

Instead of answering, she pushed a small bag into his arms and scampered back to her giggling friends. A little thrown, Harry dipped his hand into the plastic bag and pulled out a thin black muscle shirt, the tags attached to it hinted that it was new as well. He considered what to do for a moment, but his back was to #4 so they wouldn’t be able to see anything. 

Stripping off his polo shirt he heard the gasps from his audience but he ignored it as he tore off the tags and shrugged it on. The medium size fit surprisingly well without clinging to his skin when he twisted experimentally. He was also happy to notice that only a few faint scars on his biceps were visible. He tossed the bag into the open bin beside the house and made his way to the group of frozen girls.

“Your name?” He asked the short brunette, struggling slightly to keep his voice from cracking. A taller female, blonde with braces glinting over white teeth when she smiled at him, answered for him.

“Annabelle, her name is Annabelle.” she lisped slightly and Harry flashed her a small smile. Her breath hitched and a flush filled her cheeks, though Harry didn’t see as he gently snatched up Annabelle’s pale hand in his. He caught her wide brown eyes, noticing the soft gold flecks that dotted the irises, as he bowed over her small hand. Inwardly, he smirked at her growing flush, finding these little tricks that Daemon had taught him to be surprisingly fun. 

“Thank you, Annabelle.” He did his best to replicate the soft purr Daemon got in his voice when he was teasing Jaenelle. He brushed her knuckles across his lips in a gentle caress, careful not to fully touch the skin while he held her gaze. Her knees buckled, face flaming, and she would have hit the ground if her friends hadn’t instinctively caught her. 

“Boy!” Vernon bellowed, breaking the atmosphere. Harry’s back stiffened as he dropped Annabelle’s hand to turn and face the waddling Pig in the doorway, an envelope crumpled in his meaty fist. 

Pasting on a pleasant expression, he turned back to the girls and bowed formally like Saetan had taught him : “If you will excuse me, Ladies.” he made sure that he kept the words mild and soft so that they didn’t catch the underlying hate that burned in his chest. He strode away only half listening to the hushed ‘Oh my God’s that followed him and Vernon as they disappeared.

“What is this?” Vernon gave a failed imitation growl, flapping the envelope and purple writing paper at him.

“A letter about me, I assume.”

Vernon snorted derisively, “You assume?” The large man began to read the letter aloud and Harry had to admit that, pawn of Dumbledore or not, Mrs.Weasley could be incredibly endearing. Especially when he saw the stamp covered envelope, though Vernon didn’t seem to agree with him. “The postman noticed. Brought the bloody thing to our door personally. Thought it was funny.”

Harry’s emerald eyes turned frosty. “As any normal person would.”

“Don’t you speak to me about normal you freak! This is not normal!” He roared, but Harry cut him off softly before he could work himself into a full on rant. 

“Only because you are aware of the abnormality while the postman was not.” Vernon settled a little. “To him, it probably seemed like a child had sent their first letter to a favorite relative.” He almost choked on the words but they did the trick. 

Subdued, Vernon looked over the letter again, paying attention to what it actually said this time. “Who is this woman?”

“You have seen her at the station, the mother of all the redheads.” He saw the disgusted recognition flare in Vernon’s beady eyes.

“What is this Quidd-whatever rubbish?” 

“A sport… of my sort.”

“Your sort.” He spit the words, “What does she mean ‘the normal way’?”

“The way that uses means other than your type of ‘normal’.” The irritation he had been feeling since his uncle’s first bellow had started to seep through his voice, spurred on by the useless questions that his uncle didn’t actually want the answers to. The pig-like human inflated with rage but Harry overrode him coldly, “I hope that you realize that this is simply a formality as their children will not allow me to miss this game.”

Harry didn’t move when the pig drew back his arm, only raising an eyebrow. “How will I explain the bruise?” Vernon froze, anger blotching his round face, his fist shaking now that he had no outlet. “I should think that you would be jumping at the chance to see me out of your door, unless there is another reason you want me here?” Vernon stumbled. They both knew that the neighbors weren’t the only ones watching him in the mornings. 

He was quick to be given permission after that, grinning savagely at the eavesdropping baby whale in the hallway as he passed by. When he entered his room, he caught the over excited puffball of feathers before it collided with his face. He read the subdued but expected update from Ron and penned a quick response, having to pull Pigwidgeon out of his hair where the little bird had nested, and sent it off. He spent another twenty minutes drawing up a formal letter to Gringotts stating that he would be collecting his Marks of Station after the World Cup. He also added that he would need a good sum of muggle pounds. When he was satisfied he attached it to a patiently waiting Hedwig, who glided out the window after a soft croon to her owner. The rest of the day was spent pushing himself through his forms in his new, gloriously cool, shirt.

***

Packed and ready, the gift from Draca dangling from his ear, Harry stared at the fireplace as he tried to figure out how to take out the fake fireplace before the Weasleys arrived. The Dursleys were all dressed in their finest clothes and huddled together as they watched Harry, who was in his typically oversized jeans and t-shirt, with dark and mistrustful eyes. They were obviously confused with his focus on the electronic fireplace, especially when the Weasleys were set to arrive in close to twenty minutes. 

“They will be driving, of course.” Vernon snipped. 

“No.” he answered absently. Deciding on a course of action, he unplugged the electric fireplace and dragged it away from the natural place that had been covered since he was eleven, ignoring the shrieks from his aunt. Vernon lumbered forward to grab him but gaped dumbly when he started yanking the nailed boards off of the wall. Harry stared at the plank in his hands in mild shock, but he didn’t pause for long before pulling out the rest. 

“What do you think you are doing, Boy?” His uncle growled

Harry dusted himself off, “Do you really want them coming through the front door where just anyone could see them? They don't even own a car. We travel in different ways and through here is one of them.” A moment after he spoke, at ten past five, green fire flared in the hole in their wall, making the Dursleys jump. 

Mr.Weasley stumbled out first in long green robes. After straightening, he took in the room, and smiled widely when he spotted the Dursleys. “Ah! You must be Harry’s Aunt and Uncle!” 

Harry didn’t bother intercepting the jovial man, instead embracing George who had come through next, Fred following directly after. 

“Alright there Harry? Been eating well?” George asked him as the fire flared once more.

“Well enough,” He smiled at them, “Hello Ron.” The youngest redhead stared at him dumbly.

Mr.Weasley, not getting any response from Harry’s relatives, focused back on who they had come to get. “Hello Harry! Got your trunk ready?”

“Upstairs.” he nodded. 

“We’ll get it!” Fred volunteered brightly, instantly making Harry suspicious. 

He let it go for now, not really worried about any plans to torment his relatives that the twins might have. 

“Mr.Weasley,” Harry saved them all from the inevitable and awkward small talk. “do you think you could repair the fireplace before following us to the Burrow?”

“Repair?” the man blinked, uncomprehending, until he saw the pile of boards and the fake coal burner. “Oh my, what is that?” 

 

Harry grinned at the man’s breathless wonder. “An electric fireplace. The boards usually cover the natural fireplace.” 

“Gracious! How marvelous! Eckeltricity you say? How does it-” 

“Will you fix it?” Harry cut him off gently. 

“What? Oh, yes yes of course.”

“Fix?” Petunia quailed shrilly. “Not with- with that!”

Mr.Weasley looked confused but Harry confirmed it easily. “With magic, yes.” He enjoyed their flinch, “Or would you rather do it yourselves when I’m gone?”

The dig worked, for he knew of their intense dislike of doing any physical labor themselves. Mr.Weasley looked between Harry and his relatives worriedly until Vernon nodded tersely, though he was scowling deeply. 

The thump of the Twins on the stairs drove Dudley, who had originally escaped to the kitchen when the fire first flared, back into the sitting room. Harry silently marveled that the boy could move so swiftly without having to be rolled into the room. Harry ignored the older Weasley who was still trying to make nice with the Dursleys, and focused on watching the twins, who had broken into matching grins when they caught sight of Dudley. Seeing his chance to escape the oppressive atmosphere, Mr. Weasley ushered the boys towards the Floo where he quickly lit a new fire. Fred delayed them a few moments when he had to scramble to gather some sweets that he dropped before he and George took Harry’s trunk into the fire. Ron was next, still not having said a word.

Harry tossed off his habitual farewells as he stepped towards the fire, only to be forestalled by Mr. Weasley’s parental side rearing its partially bald head. “Harry said goodbye to you, did you not hear him?” 

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry tried to sooth the man, but he had found his proverbial soapbox.

“You are not going to see your nephew until next summer.” his indignation was clear. “Surely you are going to respond.”

Harry could see the desire to strike out growing in Vernon’s yellowed eyes. The words that he forced out through clenched teeth told the teenager that his next summer was going to be very painful. He felt a flush of disappointment in the Weasley Patriarch when the man looked satisfied at the concession.

Harry stepped into the pleasant warmth of the green flames but didn’t have the time to say a word when Petunia’s screams erupted behind him over a horrid gagging noise. He spun about to see Dudley kneeling on the floor beside the coffee table, gagging on a footlong purple protrusion that he only distantly recognized as his cousin’s tongue. He also noticed the bright coloured but empty candy wrapper on the floor beside him. 

Petunia was attempting to yank the slimy beast, now a foot in length, out of his mouth and making the boy sputter as he tried to fight her off. Vernon seemed to be having an epileptic fit, what with the flailing arms. Mr. Weasley was shouting over all of the commotion, saying that he could make things better while brandishing his wand. As soon as Petunia saw the stick of wood, her shrieks ratcheted up a notch and she flung her thin body over her son. Vernon started tossing the china and proving that Arthur had fairly good reflexes as he dodged. Harry almost wanted to stay and help, but the sight of Petunia suffocating her son while trying to rip out his tongue was just too much. He barked out ‘The Burrow’ as clearly as he could and disappeared in a rush.

He found that he couldn’t breathe as he tumbled out of the fireplace, falling to his knees against a lopsided chair as he gasped. Both twins were immediately beside him and the first thing out of their mouths was, “Did he eat it?”

That set him off as he rolled onto his back, clear and easy laughter filling the room. “Yes!” he gasped out finally. “Hell’s fire, that was brilliant, whatever that was.”

“Ton-tongue toffee.” Fred informed brightly, “George and I invented them. We’ve been looking for someone to test them on all semester.”

Everyone joined in on the laughter this time, the Twins pulling him to his feet. Harry leaned against the scrubbed kitchen table and smiled at the identical males in front of him. “I wish I had a pensive to show you the results.” they pulled a set of chairs to seat themselves in front of him and he hopped up on the table himself. “Dudley was gasping and flailing about with this great purple thing spilling out of his mouth. Petunia was shrieking like mad and trying to pull it out. When your Dad tried to help, she actually threw that twig-like body of hers over Dudley’s. I thought he would roll over and she’d be flattened like a rug.” He flashed them a pleased, if malicious, grin that had them flushing with pride. 

“Now, Vernon was the icing on the cake. He was going practically bonkers, cursing up a blue streak. When Petunia started letting loose, he got it into his head to start chucking things. And what did he grab first? The fine china Petunia has been collecting for over fifteen years. Cost a small fortune and shatters like cold glass on a hot stove. If his heart survives his little tantrum, he won’t survive hers when she finds out.”

The Twins were roaring in their seats, echoed by the other occupants of the cozy kitchen. He waited patiently for the laughter to die down, a wicked smile lighting his face. “A little advice though, if you want to earn loads of cash,” more than one redhead perked up at that. “dilute the potion, target an appendage much lower and market it to men… or possibly their wives.”

Charlie Weasley snorted the water he had been drinking, drawing attention while Bill tried to hide his laughter by helping his coughing brother. Fred and George stared at him in confusion until he gave a pointed look to their laps. The blushes on their faces were almost as bright as their grins. He finally turned his attention to the others in the room, knowing who the oldest were but only meeting them for the first time now. 

“How’re you doing Harry?” Charlie asked, being the nearest to him.

“Better now.” he shook the large calloused hand, taking in the handsome features and freckled muscles. He was a strong one, built much like the Twins and likely a very hard opponent to beat. 

Bill got to his feet, grinning roguishly, and made his way in front of the teen. Harry almost shook his hand as well but thought better of it and instead touched three fingers to the red head’s brow, just below the hairline, with his right hand then gripped his right shoulder. 

Essentially, he had acknowledged the older male as the Weasley House Heir. Harry could tell that the man was shocked at the use of the custom, but he followed through by gripping and pressing Harry’s right hand to his forehead while bowing slightly. When Bill became the Weasley Head, then they would simply have to exchange bows, the depth of which was decided by station, and usually only on official occasions. 

When the male straightened up, his blue eyes caught sight of the silver oath ring and they flicked upwards to meet serene green. Harry took his time to assess the oldest and approved of the long hair, fang earring and dragonhide boots that rounded out his punk rock outfit.

“What was-” Ron started, the only one confused by the display, but he was interrupted by his father appearing. 

“That wasn’t funny Fred!” He shouted, “What on earth did you give that boy?”

“I didn’t give him anything!” Fred protested. “I just dropped it… It was his own fault that he went and ate it. I never told him too.”

“You dropped it on purpose!” the usually soft spoken man roared, “You knew he would eat it just as you knew he was on a diet!”

“How big did his tongue get?” George cut in.

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it.” the room was once more filled with laughter, Harry tipping forward into Bill’s side. “It isn’t funny! That sort of behavior seriously undermines Wizard-Muggle relations. I spend half of my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles and my own sons-” 

“The Dursleys,” Harry cut him off softly but sharply, unable to let that line of talk continue. He stayed pressed against Bill’s side but turned steady green eyes to Arthur, stilling his words. “are not the kind of Muggles you want to have ‘relations’ with. Good or otherwise.”

A strange shuttered look passed over the adult’s face and Harry had to wonder at what his ‘family’ had done or said after he left. Arthur plowed on regardless, “Th-that’s not the point! You two wait until I tell your mother.” 

“Tell me what?” A familiar female voice asked from behind them and Harry didn’t miss a beat as he slipped off the table. 

“How dicey Muggle relations can be especially with tricky cases like my relatives.” he smiled winningly, “I’m just grateful that you went through so much trouble to invite me.”

Her stern expression melted in the face of his smile, “No trouble at all, Harry dear. You are always welcome in our house. I thought for a moment that it was something to do with the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes…”

“I have neither seen nor heard anything about that, I assure you.” he patted her hand gently in sympathy, “On another note, Fred and George have offered to show me to where I’m staying, seeing as how they are carrying my trunk and all, is that alright?”

“Yes yes, of course dear,” she rounded on the boys. “Well? Hop to it now, and no pranking the poor boy.” she warned, waving a finger threateningly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Mum” George grabbed one end of the trunk hurriedly, Fred taking the other end.

“Not in a million years.” they rushed past their mother. Harry followed more calmly, giving her a soft ‘thank you’ and winking at a giggling Ginny who was standing behind Molly along with a frowning Hermione. 

“Such a polite boy.” He heard Molly gush as he stepped up the stairs. He managed to quiet his laughter into a faint chuckle. The Twins were sending him awed looks but oddly kept silent on their trek upwards. He understood their extra care when a door opened up ahead on the second landing and Percy poked his head out. 

“Evening Percy “ he greeted.

“Hello Harry. I was wondering who was making all that noise downstairs. I’m trying to work in here and all that laughter is terribly distracting.”

“He’s working for the Ministry.” George informed him. 

“What are you working on?”

“A report for the Department of International Magical Co-operation. We are trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin.” the eyes of the Twins had glazed over, obviously having heard all of this already.

“That could cause problems in classes like Potions.” Harry realized, “Or interfere with your experiments, guys, if your cauldron started leaking prematurely. “ They suddenly looked interested.

“Yes, exactly!” Percy beamed. 

“Do you enjoy your work, Percy?” he found himself asking softly.

“Very much.” His smile confirmed his response.

“Then I wish you the best of luck. Just don’t sacrifice your moral ground for advancement.” a crease appeared on the brow above the horned rimmed glasses, “I suggest a silencing charm to deal with the noise. Make sure it covers the windows as well.”

Percy disappeared into his room, excitement renewed, and they carried on. They settled in Ron’s room, now filled with beds. As soon as the door clicked shut the two redheads tackled him onto the two beds that had been pushed together for the twins. They wrestled lightly for a while until he gave up to the futility of it and laid there, huffing under the two males. Fred wound up half draped over Harry’s torso while George was curled up against the younger teen with their legs tangled together. The ravenette had his hands buried in their red locks.

“That was a brilliant bit of talking down there,” Fred smirked into his chest.

“Saved our hides from a good blistering, I bet.” George agreed into his shoulder. 

“And I didn’t even lie. Care to explain the tension there?”

They did, with little prompting. He hadn’t known about their OWL scores or he would have talked to them sooner, but he understood their position. He also understood Molly’s. The order sheet business was amusing, especially when they had told him what they had come up with. They were so focused on pouring their hearts out to him that they didn’t notice Bill and Charlie enter the room. Harry ignored them, and their amused looks, in favor of the Twins.

“Alright.” he started once they fell silent, “The first thing I have to ask is if you two are serious about this business? Do you want it to be more than a ‘To order’ business?”

“Yes,” Fred answered seriously.

George continued, “We found an empty shop in Diagon Alley that we were hoping to make payments on at the end of the year.”

“Good. If it works, I will teach you a trick to protect your sheets so that others can’t touch them.” They curled in closer to the younger teen, smiling, “I will also put a down payment on that building when we go to Diagon. That way, it will still be there when you are ready to move in and you can start making payments.” He shushed them when they tried to protest, “You’ll need a signature on the lease that can’t be disputed if someone else makes a play for the location. Especially since you are minors. Now, most importantly, what is this about your OWL scores? I know how smart you two are, so no excuses.”

“We don’t really need them and they are a waste of valuable inventing time.” George pouted.

“Who said the OWL’s were for you at all?” Harry chided, getting grunts of confusion. 

“Grades in school are not always for the student receiving them. Sometimes, they are so the parents have a gauge to see the growth in their children that they are not witness to. It lets them know that their little boy or girl will be able to survive when they leave the nest. I bet you’ve never sat your mother down and explained your plans to her, so she is likely heartsick with worry for your futures. That is what is making her lash out at what she sees as a temporary hobby that is ruining your lives.” He finished in the same low voice that he had started with and trailed off into a contemplative silence. 

“Bugger.” George burst the atmosphere.

“We were right berks, weren’t we?” Fred asked morosely.

“So were we when we found our careers.” Charlie piped up sympathetically. The twins jumped away in a panic while their brothers laughed. Bill, the quickest to calm down, also took the chance to crawl onto the bed with a still prone Harry and wrapped himself around the teen. 

Charlie stopped laughing. “Bill?”

The eldest brother glanced over the head of an equally confused brunette and shrugged awkwardly. “I wanted to see if it was as comfortable to cuddle him as it looked like for our dear brothers.”

There was silence.

“Is it?”

Charlie was beckoned over, “It seems so. There is a sort of field of relaxation around him.”

“Huh.” Charlie pressed against the pliant teen opposite his brother, “More like a breath of fresh after being caught in a cave for a while.”

The Twins, who had been staring dumbly, joined the pile to sprawl half on Harry and half on each brother. “We agreed that it was like waking up under warm blankets after a good sleep?”

“Are you all comfortable?” Harry asked dryly. “I’m sure you won’t be once I vanish your clothes if you don’t move.”

Bill stared at his unimpressed expression with amusement. “Considering the position we are in, you might want to reconsider.”

Harry stiffened sharply at the thought but his mouth was moving, hopefully before they noticed the slip. “Who said it would just be the clothes that you are wearing?” 

The door opening caught their attention before he could carry out the threat. “Hey guys? Mum wants us dow-”

Ron’s voice stopped with a squeak as the teen got a good look at the room. The door closed softly when he left without another word. Seconds later, Ginny poked her head through the door, hazel eyes wide with laughter.

“Are you all after Harry or is there a smidge of incest happening here?” she asked innocently. Ron’s disgusted cry from the hall was matched by the ones in the room as every redhead sprang from the bed. Harry made good of his escape, slipping out the door and escorting the youngest Weasley down the stairs. 

“Dinnertime?” Fred asked from behind. 

“Not yet.” Hermione answered, “She wants some help setting up outside in the gardens.”

“That’s us.” Bill announced, sliding past with Charlie. Harry felt two distinctively male hands brush against his arm and ribs as they passed but neither man turned back. 

***

Downstairs, they found Mrs.Weasley humming softly as the kitchen utensils and various vegetables flew around her. Fred and George made to step forward but Harry waved them off, sending them out with the rest. They looked pathetically relieved. He approached her slowly, vanishing the fake wand she was about to touch and picking up hers, holding it out. 

“Mrs.Weasley?” She jumped and spun around.

“Oh! Harry dear. Don’t sneak up on a lady like that.” she pressed a hand to her racing heart. He handed the woman her wand, smiling.

“I was wondering if I could help. I am a fair hand in the kitchen and I feel a little useless not doing something.” She didn’t realize he had trapped her even as her protests folded. She set him to scrubbing and peeling vegetables and he waited for the quiet between them to become comfortable before attacking. “The twins showed me one of their pranks earlier.” he was treading the truth carefully. 

She huffed explosively, “Those things! Wasting their time on such- such frivolity! I get so many owls about them from school and they just waste their smarts. Just look at their OWL reports.”

She might have run into a full tirade if Harry hadn’t cut in solemnly. “It was the first time in months that I have really laughed.” 

“But they- what? I beg your pardon, hon?”

“The jokes they show me always make me laugh, no matter how my days have been, and I’m not the only one that is true for.”

Molly put down her wand to look at him. “Harry-”

“Living with the Dursleys,” he would not let her get onto a sympathy/smothering roll if he could help it, but he knew he had to get her emotionally involved. “is not what I would call a good life, and definitely not one that I enjoy. Their pranks, though, can always bring a smile to my face. I know a lot of kids a school, in all the houses, whom they have helped through homesickness, loss and just plain depression with a well-placed candy. And unlike some other groups I know, they have never been willfully malicious.”

Molly violently chopped a carrot with a frown. “But this path has no future and all the professors are always complaining to me.”

“The Professors are usually upset due to disruptions in the school but they rarely see the end results. Students don’t go to them with their emotional problems because Fred and George have dealt with them within the first week of pranks. As for the future… Zonko’s is one of the leading businesses in Magical England and they don’t have half the genius of the Twins. They are amazingly gifted and they’ve chosen to use it to bring joy to children.”

“Who would support them? We can’t afford what it would take to start a business.” she admitted painfully, food forgotten and hands wringing.

Harry smiled, “Like I said, they are geniuses. They already have a silent backer willing to invest in them. All they need is a client base, workable products and the patience to wait until they graduate.”

“Those order sheets!” she gasped. Her plump hand, covered in bits of potato and carrots, flew to her mouth, horrified. When Harry nodded, she flew out of the kitchen and into the garden where an epic table battle was going on. Harry grinned, easily taking over the physical work in the kitchen as the voices drifted in.

“Mum? Are you crying? What’s wrong?” Charlie was the first to notice her and was ignored as the patriarch presumably descended on her twin boys.

“Oh, my boys!” She half wailed,” My sweet, brilliant boys! Why didn’t you tell me your business was so serious? And I destroyed your orders!” 

“S’alright,” Fred’s voice came out muffled, like his face was being squished. “We always keep copies.” 

“We just hid them better.” George admitted, a little clearer of voice, sounding a little dazed at the abrupt turnaround.

“That’s my boys.” She was probably beaming at them. “Arthur dear, did you know? Our sons are already entrepreneurs. Not even out of school yet! They have a silent partner and everything.”

“Simply marvelous, dear. Never doubted them.” Mr.Weasley’s mild voice was filled with pride. “I’m finding myself a bit parched, excuse me.” 

Harry was tossing a salad when he slipped into the still bustling kitchen. Molly continued to gush outside. 

“A silent backer?” he hinted, pulling out a glass from beside Harry.

“There can never be too much laughter in the world.”

“I’m sure the shop-running can wait until after they graduate.” Here was more dangerous ground.

“For now it’s just marketing and getting their products out there.”

“So that when they do open their doors, they will have a good and steady customer base. Did you guide them?”

Harry turned to the stove top and the cheese sauce he had started. “This has been their plan for years. You have just raised your children to be able to find and follow their dreams, Mr.Weasley.”

A hand, callused from years of writing, landed on his smaller shoulder. “Thank you for all of that you are not admitting to. Please call me Arthur, one Lord to another.”

Harry barked out a surprised laugh, “If you’d like.”

“Oh! The dinner!” Molly cried from the garden, prompting Arthur to make an exit. 

“Harry seems to have kept things well in hand, dear.” he commented jovially as she passed him, but she took charge of her kitchen with little fuss and sent Harry out with her husband. 

Dinner was an easy affair where Percy quietly admitted to helping Fred and George determine the Misuse of Magic laws and what they could not do. It was obvious to Harry that Percy had been surprised at how pleased his parents had been because of it.

“Do you like law, Percy?” Harry asked once the other conversations picked up, though Arthur was rather covertly listening. 

“Yes, it is quite fascinating, and there are so many loopholes in the system!” 

“Ever thought of pursuing a career in the field?”

“Well yes, but no firm will hire even an assistant without at least five years in Ministry employ.”

“That’s not entirely true.” a devious idea was forming in his mind and Harry thought that perhaps everyone could benefit. “There is a firm that I know of that is fairly new and unorthodox.”

“You must be speaking of the fellows representing Sirius Black. Uhm…er…Secrate and Pennygood, I believe.” Percy fumbled for a moment.

“The very same. I do know that they are in need of an assistant to handle paperwork as their cases increase and they would prefer to have someone unbiased by Ministry conditioning.”

“The Ministry is not biased!” he sounded so horrified.

“Actually,” Arthur jumped in, “The Ministry is incredibly biased and mainly towards Purebloods. Do you know of any Muggleborns in the Wizengamot? Or even as the Head of a department? I believe that Miss. Pennygood left for just that reason.”

“But-”

“Just think about it, Percy, and owl me once you have thought it over. The position will be open for a while.” Harry finished the conversation, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to progress if they continued. The dinner continued peacefully for Harry, between Percy and Ron as he was, until Molly caught his attention.

“You even have Harry following your example!”

“Mum, I just met Harry today. I can’t have possibly influenced him already.”

“But he never had such a daring earring before this summer.” she protested.

“It was a birthday gift from a woman who has often taken care of me. I couldn’t refuse,” not that he ever would think about refusing Draca anything. He flicked the dangling stone that seemed to be caught in delicate silver threads and it clinked against the metal arms of his new glasses.

“Besides,” Bill continued, flashing Harry a smile, “no one at the bank gives a damn about how I dress so long as I bring home plenty of treasures.” Harry tuned them out as they turned to Bill’s hair and simply basked in the joy of the family’s feelings.

***

Harry couldn’t sleep that night for the first time in his short life, his mind in so much turmoil about the coming days. Instead he spent the night in the garden running through his knife drills because he hadn’t been able to do them at the Dursleys’. By the time that the Weasley matriarch woke up, he had already started breakfast for the house.

“Harry! What are you doing up so early?” she sounded a little groggy as he handed her a cup of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” 

“Well, I had forgotten to mention it yesterday but why don’t you give me your school list, dear. I’ll pick up your things along with everyone else’s today.” 

“That’s very kind of you Mrs.Weasley but-”

“Call me Molly dear.”

“-Molly, but I have errands in Diagon that I need to attend to myself.”

“Really now, what could be so important?”

Harry settled across from her, for once glad to be in his oldest and most tattered apparel. “Gringotts, for one, to settle some business and I was hoping to find some new clothes.”

She took in his nearly opaque t-shirt with a frown. “When was the last time you bought something new?”

Harry gave her a wan smile. “The only clothes that have ever been bought for me was my school robes. I bought those myself.”

The large woman bristled visibly, “Oh my! Those absolutely horrid Muggles!” she fumed, “Alright then. Give me your list and key and I will gather your school supplies. When the Cup is over, I will send you and Bill to take care of your errands. How’s that?”

“More than I could ask for, though I have one condition for giving you my vault key.”

“Yes?”

“Let me pay for everyone’s dress robes.” 

“Oh Harry, I simply couldn’t-”

“Your family,” he talked over her objections, “has given me so much and accepted me with no hesitation. I feel safe here and that is a rare thing for me. I can’t do much to repay you, and I don’t think I ever will, for that feeling ,but I want to at least do this for you. I want your kids to enjoy whatever special event is happening this year.” her eyes had gone a bit misty and Harry figured that she just needed one more push. “We can always call it an early Christmas gift. It is either that or I can spend ridiculous amounts of money on useless things for all of them.”

She laughed softly, “Alright alright, but no Christmas gifts.”

He held up a solemn hand, “I swear… if I remember.”

She giggled, oddly enough, “Oh, Ginny is going to look so beautiful! I’ll also get different colours for Fred and George.”

“Your style, I’m sure, is impeccable Molly. Would you like some breakfast? I made crepes.”

He woke up the boys when he went up to change, opting for the new muscle shirt and his smallest pair of jeans, which were four years old but still long enough in the legs. They were washed nearly white and torn at the knees but now that he had muscled up some, they were fairly snug. The twins whistled appreciatively while Ron tossed him a ‘Ya look good mate.’ There was a bit of griping about the early hour from the group of teens until they realized that the three oldest were going to miss out on Harry’s crepes, with their homemade strawberry coulis and devonshire cream. Ron was still moaning over his last one as he ate while they walked. The group chatted easily, Harry escorting Ginny who was marveling at his apparent comfort in the cold English morning. He had borrowed and resized one of Bill’s old jackets, made out of threadbare green denim. He also took the chance to quietly thank the younger girl for her gift, patting the unnoticed sheaths that rested against his thighs. 

Stoatshead Hill nearly killed most of them climbing up, until Harry was practically carrying a wheezing Ginny. He sat her down on a dry rock and set off to find the elusive portkey until a jovial voice called out to them. It was then that Harry remembered exactly who they would be traveling with.

Amos Diggory looked years younger than what Harry had seen in the web, only he had been seeing the aftermath of the year to come, but Cedric looked just as he had seen before. Tall, handsome and well-built for a Seeker, Diggory fit well into the heartthrob image.

“Hi.” Cedric greeted, walking up to them. He stumbled when he caught sight of Harry, a surprisingly bright blush flaring to life under wide grey eyes. The twins exchanged interested looks over identical evil grins. Harry was simply confused and the adults chatted on, oblivious.

“All these yours, Arthur?” Amos asked, turning to the batch of teens that were staring at his fidgeting son.

“Oh no, only the red heads.” He pointed to each of the non-Weasleys. “This is Hermione, a friend of Ron’s, and Harry, a family friend.” Apparently the man had noticed the new distance between the fourteen year olds. 

“Merlin’s shaggy beard.” Amos breathed, finally noticing his blushing son. “Harry? Harry Potter?”

Harry took the opportunity to approach, giving the other Lord a slight bow. With Cedric, though, he repeated the same motions he had made with Bill, fingers brushing his forehead and clasping his right shoulder. Amos looked pleased when Cedric bowed over his hand, Harry’s knuckles to his forehead. 

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ron whispered loud enough for it to carry, “First Bill and now this bloke.?”

“You acknowledged Bill?” Arthur’s pride was shining through.

“He’s your Heir, isn't he?”

“Yes, yes he is.” the redhead beamed, turning to his youngest son. “It’s a sign of respect, Ron, for a Lord to greet an Heir of another Lord this way the first time. It means that they acknowledge your family and that they are open to alliances.”

“Harry’s a… a Lord?” Hermione asked, staring at the indifferent brunette.

“Since last year. “ Amos spoke. “Lots happened last year, didn’t it? Ced talked about you quite a bit.” the man sent his son a sly smile, “mentioned he played against you last year. I said to him ‘That will be something to tell the grandchildren one day…you beat Harry Potter!’”

Said Harry Potter saw the flash of humiliation that Cedric hid fairly quickly. He found himself in a pleasant mood so Harry decided to bail the blonde out. “I think you overestimate me, Lord Diggory, your son is an excellent flyer.”

“But you fell,” Cedric protested, “because of the-”

Harry shrugged, patting the blonde’s bicep. “I wasn’t prepared for them but now I am, so expect this year to be different.” It was slow to show but Cedric’s grin lit up his face.

“So you- “

“-approve of this bloke?” a twin appeared on either side of the Hufflepuff, looking him over critically. 

“I do.” Harry smirked, igniting another blush on the older boy. 

“Welcome to the club then. “ Fred brightened immediately.

“We’ll get you a handbook.” George promised, tossing an arm over his shoulder.

“O-okay.” Harry sympathized with the blond’s predicament but left them to rejoin Ginny and her father. Arthur called them all over to put a finger on the grubby boot, and Harry made a point of wrapping an arm around the younger girl. He gave her a ‘trust me’ smile and noticed that Fred mimicked his example with Hermione. When they slammed into the ground, he staggered only a few steps to catch her weight, while most everyone else went sprawling. 

“Seven past Five from Staotshead Hill.” An outrageously dressed wizard called out. Harry thought that the kilt rather suited the man. Arthur greeted the workers before herding them onwards, the two groups getting split up in the mist. Harry handled the payment of the camping site with a roll of pounds from Arthur’s pocket. He managed to learn a bit of gossip before the man was summarily obliviated by another official. They traveled through the rows of flamboyant tents to an empty spot with the sign ‘Weezly’ stuck in the ground.

Harry made short work of one of the tents, with Ginny distracting Arthur and Hermione directing the twins with the second one. Once everything was settled, he quickly made his escape, letting Arthur know out of courtesy, while Ron and Hermione went to fetch some water.

He knew that he was subtly ignoring them, but they were not ready to approach him after the mess of last year and they could not understand the changes they were seeing in him. Not to mention, they were just not … drawn to him like the others were.

So he wandered and watched as the camp woke up. He found the children to be the most amusing, like the little wailing boy who had approached him with a broken toy soldier. Harry had popped its arm back into its socket, which it promptly saluted, and looked around to see a frantic woman searching the grounds. She blushed and stammered when she realized who her son had found but he bought her silence with an autograph. 

Somewhere along the line, a discrete gossiper had leaked his presence to select people in the crowds and he was quietly approached as he walked about. 

Most were visiting foreign wizards, folks who had heard of him and wanted to size up Britain’s child saviour. Harry was sure that he had left them confused but a little impressed, knowing that they might be people he would have to interact with on a political level in the future. 

For the Englishmen, he was approached but he was politely distant until he was sure that they were not simpering idiots that were only out to gawp at his scar. He realized, during his little walkabout, that he would have been seen as an awkward young teenager that was drowning in his own fame if he hadn’t had instruction from the SaDiablo’s. 

Grandpa had kept his promise to teach him Protocol, sequestering them whole nights to start him on the basic, though half the things he had learned were things he had been practicing unconsciously for years. Harry cherished those quiet talks beside a soft lit fire where he simply sat for hours and watched those refined features flicker in the firelight, the deep sensuous voice washing through him as he imparted centuries of knowledge to him. 

Seeing the codes of honor that came from the very core such a great and ancient man, instilled Harry with a deep need to gain his approval. In secret, Harry had started to create a web that would allow Saetan to walk in the sunlight without weakening, but that would likely have to wait until the school year.

Daemon’s teaching seemed to be the one he fell back on the most though, during his day-to-day dramas. Saetan was giving him a code of conduct that was showing him how to be a good man, while Daemon seemed to be showing him how to traverse the political dance he would be facing in the coming years. 

The laws between the Realms were very different. He had provided the SaDiablos with some books on the history and laws of his world to satisfy their curiosity of his culture when he couldn't answer their questions himself, but the basics of politics were the same no matter where you went. 

Daemon was trying to teach him how to command a room or disappear if he wanted to. Harry was picking up the manipulations fairly well, recognizing and using them to his advantage. He supposed that it was his Slytherin side shining through. The one thing that Daemon had found the hardest to convince him to use was how his looks could be a weapon. 

Harry shuddered at the stories Daemon had shared of his long years as a sex slave and the tales of the Sadist. The man had originally been reluctant to tell him anything, but when Harry had found himself sharing some of his most painful memories with the Dursleys, the Consort had held him lightly and gently recounted his early years. Through it all, Harry could feel his respect and admiration for the man growing, awed at the strength the man must have needed to survive all those years, until a strange warmth had lodged itself in his chest. During the last few weeks, Harry had found himself sharing more and more with Daemon, from the snake tooth in his hand to the vague future battles ahead of him, and the older man had done the same, explaining about the past two decades and how he had finally found his freedom. After the first few days, the Warlord Prince had started to groom Harry in the ways of both seduction and death and how they were so often intertwined.

His one regret in meeting the SaDiablo’s was that he had been unable to meet Jaenelle again, for she had sequestered herself away for an important project. That disappointment only grew when the majority of her Court’s Inner Circle had disappeared nearly a week ago with no warning. It was supposedly an important political trip but they had taken Tersa with them so that was obviously a lie they had told to their staff. With Helene ruling the keep, all Harry could do was visit with Lorn when not out playing with his other friends, even if Draca was suspiciously absent as well. 

Refocusing on the world around him Harry noted that he had reached his destination, a medium sized pavilion tent done in navy blue with a stylized golden ‘z’ dangling off the gold trimmed eaves. It was fairly understated for a pureblood family of their stature but Harry highly approved of the Zabinis’ taste. He tugged the cord on the plot stake, the bell attached making no sound, and stepped back to a polite distance to wait. He knew his friend might be wandering about like he was but he was sure that at least one of his parents would be in. He was proven correct when the tent flap was drawn aside. 

“May I help you?” a husky female voice drew him away from his contemplation of the progressively more expensive tents that lined down the row.

“Lady,” he bowed formally, making the word sound like the title he saw it as. “I inquire upon the presence of Blaise Zabini.”

While she took in the contradicting image of the ragged clothing, striking looks and impeccable manners, he studied her intensely in a glance. Her skin was lighter than Blaise’s, but they shared the same lush mouth and piercing blue eyes, though hers were more of a cold glacial blue compared to his crisp and clear sky blue. She was of average height with a full rounded figure that was encased in high fashioned muggle clothes that were fit for a business woman. The three inch heeled shoes gave her a bit more height but it was her unconsciously refined and proud stature that gave her a strong presence. Her face was shaped in a classic kind of beauty that was obviously shadowed in her son, with thick brown hair that was trimmed to her jawline and framing her face. 

She stared at him with a cool expression, expertly masking her confusion and distaste. Harry kept his hands hidden, clasped behind his back so he erred on the side of caution. She acknowledged him but was unwilling to invite him inside the tent. 

“He is in.” she admitted reluctantly, “Do you have a message?”

The faintest hint of an amused smile graced his face. “If you would not mind, could you please inform him that ‘Ri’ has answered his summons?” 

She nodded, sharp eyes narrowing before she disappeared inside once more. He knew that it was his clothes that were the problem, but it was not something that he could change just yet. So he resigned himself to waiting patiently as the seconds ticked by.

“Lord Potter.” Blaise’s tone was wry and Harry could hear the humor even when that handsome face was carefully impassive. His friend was as immaculate as ever in a pair of snug boot-cut blue jeans and a v-neck light grey t-shirt. His thick wavy hair tumbled loosely about his ears to tickle his neck, proving to Harry that his arrival must have awoken the larger male.

“I apologize for the early hour, but I couldn't be sure that there would be time to see you later.” His smile slid slowly into a smirk as his friends eyes widened, giving Harry a once over. The green eyed teen allowed it, knowing that he had changed, “It is likely the only time I could slip the leash of my escorts.”

“Please come in.” Harry took the invitation, ignoring the steady gaze still pressing against his skin, “Still no ring?”

He glanced back once they were inside, “Before school but after the game. I have already written to the Goblins.” 

“You will have to greet me properly once it is settled.” 

“I promise you will be the very first.” The Lady Zabini was watching them surreptitiously from an armchair settled near a comfortable fire. The room was a wide and open living room with an attached dining and kitchen area. It was done in rich tones of brown and cream with dashes of bronze and green and Harry found it very appealing. A hall to the side led off into what he assumed were the bedrooms and the water closet. He didn’t have a chance to ask as he was abruptly enfolded in a pair of warm familiar arms.

“It is good to see you alright.” Blaise breathed into his hair and Harry noted with irritation that the darker skinned boy had grown taller yet again.

“Draco sent a Portable Pantry so I had plenty of food.” He admitted. The Slytherin only knew the barest hints of his home life but he knew the older teen suspected quite a lot.

The Italian drew back after a moment allowing Harry to turn and face him without being let go of, “What are you wearing? It is better than the usual fare but still…”

Harry sighed, “The pants are an old pair, as you can tell, but the shirt is new. A girl from my neighborhood gave it to me. It was nice of her but rather odd. The jacket I borrowed from Bill Weasley.” 

Blaise had a peculiar expression on his face that Harry couldn’t place. “Who was the girl?” 

“The girl? She was…” his mouth was opened to answer but he paused, thinking. “I… can’t seem to remember. She was short and had approached with her two friends, but…" he frowned, trying to think back, "Hell’s Fire, that is annoying.”

The Slytherin’s expression cleared to a sly smirk that only his parents recognized. Both of them were watching now and the arm around Harry’s waist tightened slightly. “So you now have something old and new and something borrowed. You are missing something blue.”

Harry snorted, thumping his friend on the chest. “This is so sudden. How am I supposed to respond to such a gushing proposal?” He wasn’t expecting the Slytherin to swing him around with a laugh, but he did realize that he wasn’t the only one getting stronger over the summer. 

“You could always say yes.” 

The impish reply made him snicker. “I don’t think your parents would approve.” He laughed openly when Blaise released him quickly, finally remembering that they had an audience. The light blush that showed through dark skin didn’t help to calm him down, and nearly set him off again when his friend shifted uncomfortably when he addressed his parents. 

“Mother, Father. I would like you to meet my best friend, Lord Harrison Potter. ”Harry inclined his head to the surprised duo with a smile, his hair shifting at an angle that would clear away from his scar. 

Federico Zabini was not a heavy set man but he was large and very imposing. His skin was like dark chocolate that stretched over thick muscles, only hidden by a tailored grey suit. It was easy to see where Blaise got his broad shoulders from, shoulders that would likely grow broader still.

“Lord… Harry Potter.” Elaina repeated dubiously. 

Harry understood her hesitance, Blaise having said that his mother was an avid fashion follower. “I have only recently come into my title but have found myself in the care of Muggles who would attempt to extort my wealth if they had knowledge of it.”

An interested gleam entered Lord Zabini’s eyes. “Interesting outlook for a Gryffindor.” his voice was an even tenor that was pleasant to listen to. 

Blaise scoffed, “He’s as much a Gryffindor as I am.”

“Blaise.” neither his voice or expression changed, but a definite note of warning laced the name and the two adults took notice.

“Apologies.” his friend sobered a bit, regaining more of his usual composure at the reprimand. Harry understood his excitement, Quidditch lover that he was, but not to the point of carelessness. He accepted the apology with a slight smile that had the Slytherin silently preening.

He turned back to the Lord and Lady, “I have come to personally express my gratitude to you and your son for the gifts I received this summer. All three are beautiful creatures.”

“Have you named them as of yet?” Federico asked slyly, Harry assumed to gauge the depth of his pride and knowledge. 

“Not yet. I am waiting to visit them personally.”

“All of them?” Elaina asked archly.

“Yes. I am sure that the Nundu has a name that it prefers, so I intend to find it out.”

Federico scoffed, much like his son, “A Nundu will not just let anyone approach it. Handlers rarely survive past three years, if that. Do you think yourself so different?”

“He is, Father. All animals adore him.” Blaise answered for him.

“I am sure that he has a good hand with the more docile creatures but-”

“No. All animals love him. No matter the breed.” The absolute certainty in his words left his father nothing to refute. Federico moved them onto another topic, his wife following his lead.

“Are you attending the Cup alone?”

“No. I am enjoying the event with the Weasleys.” Their instant looks of distaste had him tensing. The Weasleys were his allies and he would not allow them to be looked down upon. 

The room chilled as his expression hardened and his voice echoed with a devious gentleness. “Arthur Weasley sacrificed his chances at wealth and prestige to uphold his integrity and the honor of an ally. His children consist of the world's most renowned Curse Breaker, the foremost Dragon handler of the largest reserve in the world, a recent graduate who knows every law the ministry has ever thought up and twins who might very well be the greatest magical inventors in the last three hundred years. His youngest son has one of the greatest strategic minds ever seen in Hogwarts and his only daughter is already up to sixth year knowledge in charms and curses though she is only a third year.”

All three Zabini’s were staring at him in shock. “Every pureblood refuses to acknowledge them because they were labeled as blood traitors by the same families that stole their ancestors’ wealth and land. I find blind prejudice useless and debasing.” He turned to Blaise, completely dismissing the adults, “I’ll see you on the train.”

The flaps of the door blew out as he strode from the tent. They only began to shiver when the heat of the summer flooded back into the room. Elaina turned to her frowning son, “Blaise, explain.”

“You two insulted a family that he has taken under his protection.” he answered, suddenly sad, He knew Harry had initially liked his parents, having seen it when he had looked at them, but then they just had to go and let their prejudices rule them. His long talks with them had apparently done nothing to sway them from their old way of thinking. 

“No,” said his father, “explain why his anger makes me feel devastated.”

This he understood all too clearly. “Because, more than anything, under his protection is exactly where you want to be. Your jealousy of how the Weasleys, of whom you have little respect for, have found their place in his life so you pushed him away.”

“Is… can we fix this?” Elaina turned to her son. “I didn’t understand at first but he’s…”

“That is not just a type of natural charisma, is it?” Federico whispered, almost afraid.

“No, it is something much more beautiful and seductive than that.” Blaise had to focus to keep from getting lost in the memories of when he had briefly felt that deep well of magic in his friend. “I do know that a few days after the cup he is going to have to go shopping for some clothes both in magical and muggle London. He has never gone shopping before so I am sure he could use some help.”

“Never?” His mother was clearly appalled. 

“Never,” he confirmed with a grin.

“I can salvage this then. Be a dear, Blaise, and find out where the Weasleys are camped out and I will pay them a visit before the game tonight.”

The two men exchanged an amused looks as she strode off, already creating lists of what shops to visit. 

***

Harry’s anger dissipated almost as soon as he exited the tent and instead had left behind an empty and aching disappointment. He would have to make a point to apologize to Blaise at a later time.

Feeling a little depressed, he decided to take his time in returning to the campsite and took to wandering about the camp grounds. He greeted a good number of people and often found himself mediating a few arguments between the event officials and obtuse wizards. At one point he had to bypass a couple arguing with a harried officer in front of a pair of wide eyed children. Apparently, the kids had been flying around on training brooms in full sight of the Muggle site managers. Ignoring the bickering Harry had drawn the young’uns aside and quietly explained to them why they couldn’t play with magical toys in Muggle areas, using judicious flashes of his scar to convince them. He eventually got their promise to behave and watched them pick up the toys that were scattered about, leaving with a nod to the gaping adults. The event official, one Albert Mugwort, had tracked him down a number of times after that to smooth over some of the more obstinate problems they were faced with.

When he finally returned to the Weasley campsite, it was a good few hours later, having caught up with Seamus and his Irish brood, a harried Oliver Wood and a couple other Hogwarts students. What he found awaiting him was a bright black and yellow figure that was trying to cajole money out of the group of Weasleys that had grown by three. 

“Ah!” Arthur caught sight of him. There was a slight glint of desperation in his eye. “And here is Harry Potter! Was starting to get worried, lad. You took your time.”

“Sorry Mr. Weasley, I got caught up.” He slipped passed, shucking his jacket onto a free seat. He tossed a bundle of tinder sticks that he had picked up along the way towards Charlie, saving one to go into the sputtering fire. The dragon tamer, who had been struggling to get the fire going the muggle way, shot him a grateful look when it flared to life. 

“Mr. Bagman is taking bets on the game. What do you think, Harry? Should I take it?”

“I don’t think you should ever make a bet unless it is through a broker you trusted. Otherwise how would you know where your money was going, win or lose?” he answered absently, rummaging through his pack for some of his gold. Off to the side the twins looked crestfallen, squirrelling their savings away at his warning.

“Come now lad, it’s all in the spirit of the game. Surely you have some thoughts on who would win?” 

Harry glanced at the wheedling Department Head, eyes narrowed upon the oblivious figure. His answer was slow and tinted with condescension, more than a few of the Weasley’s tensing when they caught his tone. There was a slight curve to his lips that made the males that knew him shudder. “I suppose I could make a small bet. Twenty to one odds that Ireland wins the cup by ten points but Bulgaria will catch the snitch. If I win, however, the funds will be taken directly from your Gringotts vaults.”

The scribbling quill faltered as mousey brown eyes snapped to cold and knowing jade. “A-a-and the bet?”

Harry jingled his money pouch, “One hundred and fifty galleons.” He was satisfied to see Bagman pale dramatically.

“That’s rather steep for a bit of fun, isn’t it?” He scratched out Harry’s bet frantically. 

“I don’t believe that I have ever been one to do things by halves.” He put his money away with a smirk. “Thank you for the tickets, Mr. Bagman, would you like a cup of tea?” the man accepted the offer and dropped the subject of betting altogether. 

The adults chatted while Ron bragged to his older brothers about the breakfast the three oldest had missed. That earned him a headlock from Bill while Charlie tried to sweet talk Harry into cooking another breakfast sometime that week. It was all rather cheerful until Barty Crouch Sr. popped up. Percy immediately started to gush and fawn over the man, rushing about to prepare him tea. Most of them ignored the man until he absently called Percy, Weatherby. Harry could actually see red headed hackles rising around him, more so from the twins. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Crouch,” he interrupted some drivel that the man was saying, “but his family name is Weasley.” 

The stiff man frowned over his toothbrush mustache. “I beg your pardon?”

“The young man who is currently making your tea, who also works for you incidentally, is named Percy Weasley not Weatherby.” he kept his words mild and factual, a contrast to the twins’ thunderous expressions. “I would think that a person of such high standing in the Ministry would make a point of knowing the subordinates that handle all sorts of important paperwork from your office. Most especially when they are the sons of your colleagues.”

Two points of colour rose on wrinkled cheeks as the man spotted the obvious familial resemblance when a frowning Percy handed him his tea. He awkwardly cleared his throat, “Ah, yes. My mistake, Mr…”

Arthur made to answer but he was interrupted by Mugwort popping up. 

“Lord Potter!” He cried breathlessly and Crouch’s eyes widened. “We have another crawler.” 

He was on his feet, jacket in hand, in an instant. “How long?”

“Twelve minutes.”

“Take me to the parents.”

“Yes sir.” he looked ridiculously relieved but Arthur forestalled their departure. 

“Harry?”

Knowing that time was short, his answer was clipped. “Children wander off quite often while parents can’t use magic to find them, so the rules say. I seem to have a talent of finding them.” He said nothing of how he had flooded most of the camp grounds with the lightest amount of power he could and how he could pick up the pure innocence that only a child could carry. 

“Is this why you were late in returning?” Harry would almost say that the man looked proud.

“One of the reasons.” He confirmed, unsure of how to take that look from the man. “I’ll be back soon.”

“The parents are Bulgarian.” Mugwort warned.

“Do you know a translation charm?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” They popped away, leaving behind a mildly stunned group.

“I… was wondering who had been assisting the Regulations officials all morning. He has been the talk of the crowds all morning.” Mr. Crouch mused, sipping at his tea. “Lord Potter you say?”

“The Protective Heir Act.” Percy assumed. “He fits the criteria.” 

“I see.” It took a moment but he seemed to shake himself before turning back to Bagman. “As I was saying, I have been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians-”

***

Hours passed and Harry returned once or twice for short periods before he was pulled away again for one reason or another. He did stop long enough for Charlie to cast a linguistics charm that would help him assimilate any new language for the next two days. It was how the older male had picked up Romanian so quickly. At the end of the afternoon, as the natural light dimmed, a salesman without a cart apparated in, a sack over his shoulder.

“Is this the Weasley lot?” He called out in his slick sales voice. Ginny nodded, sitting between Bill and Hermione.

“These are for you then. Courtesy of Mr.Potter, an apology for being away, he says.” He dropped the sack by the fire while Hermione called the others out from the tents. He rifled about until he pulled out nine smaller bags with each of their names stitched onto the fabric. They were passed out quickly enough,” Mr.Potter said you can’t refuse to take them ‘cause they were mostly gifts ta him anyways. It’s true too. He saved me cart from a blighter who near burned it up. Enjoy the cup!” Off he popped, letting them open the sacks full of paraphernalia in peace. Inadvertently making them unable to refuse the bags. 

“Wicked!” Fred crowed, pulling out an overlarge, floppy top hat that was done in green and white stripes, the rim bursting with shamrocks. George pulled out the same hat, though the stripes were in opposite colours and the rim was tumbling with leprechaun gold. There were flags and scarves, face paint and rosettes and more odds and ends. Each sack had a different arrangement of items as well as a shiny set of brass omniculars. 

“Bloody hell!” Ron pulled out his pair, testing it out, “This must have cost a fortune!”

“Language, Ronald. “Arthur admonished, “Though I doubt that this cost very much at all. With all the help he has been giving around the camp, I would imagine he was given these souvenirs in payment. I’m not surprised he decided to share.” he mused jovially, waving a flag overhead that played the Irish national anthem whenever it moved, his balding head sporting a bowler hat with a single gigantic shamrock sprouting from the ribbon. 

 

He smiled when he noted the pride of his youngest son eased from the corner of his eye. He did find it curious that none of his other children had an issue accepting even this small charity from Harry. He would let it go for now and simply watch where this exciting new development lead to.

“Oh look!” Hermione gasped in delight, “Programs!” The merchandise discovery continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaand DONE! For this chapter at least.   
>  Thank you so much for waiting so long for an update. Also mucho thanks to my beta and the wonderful work they do on my stories, they would make a lot less sense without them

**Author's Note:**

> All right. So this is sort of a prologue and the next chapter will be written differently. Actual dialogue is forthcoming and the story won't be so choppy. This first chapter is mostly Harry's memories and what he deemed important in his life. The rest of the story will be more linear and me characters from both HP and the Black Jewels series. If you don't know the trilogy that I am crossing over with (and I have a few other works that are apart of that universe) then I suggest you look up Daughter of the Blood, book one of the original trilogy by Anne Bishop. I have read it so many times that I swear I could quote passages. It is beautifully dark so I do warn you that some of the concepts and situations in the books might disturb some readers. Thought if you really like my stories then it might just be your cup of tea.  
> This story is set after the last book so there might be some spoilers if you a re going to read the series but I will try and keep the details that don't affect Harry to a minimum.
> 
> Enjoy.


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